Forged Friendships
by SK Musings
Summary: Neal's snow covered body lay face down on the Burke's front porch, it had barely been a year since tragedy struck Neal's life, now he'd been beaten and discarded to die. Peter and Mozzie work to resolve a conflict from Neal's past.
1. Chapter 1

Title: **Forged Friendships**

Author: SK Musings

Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Drama

Status: Work in Progress

Characters: Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke, Elizabeth Burke, June, Mozzie, OFC - Violet

Warnings: Medical Reality

Rating: T

Spoilers: Set 1 year after the first season ender

Summary: Peter was positive that Neal had overslept.

Disclaimer: White Collar and the characters borrowed for this story are the creative property of Jeff Eastin. This story was written and shared on solely for the enjoyment of other White Collar fans. No copyright infringement is intended.

Forged Friendships

Chapter 1 – Rule Breakers

Elizabeth slid forward in her chair and leaned her arms against the bedside railing supporting her head with her hands. At least, having Neal within her view provided some sense of comfort and control. Elizabeth turned and looked over at her husband's empty chair shaking her head. It was inevitable that he was back on the phone again. She shifted her gaze back toward Neal and thought about how he could always make her laugh, his charming smile that melted boundaries and his vulnerable romantic heart. She couldn't help but speculate that Fowler may be at the root of this attack. Neal had suffered a tremendous loss at the hands of that vile man and was barely beginning to escape from the depression that had invaded his heart. The past year had taken a huge toll on the young man and now he seemed so pale and thin, almost frail to her.

She shifted her weight in the chair and tucked her foot up under her other leg, trying to relax but her turbid mind kept returning to the events of the past morning_. Finding Neal's snow covered body lying face down on the cold cement of their front porch; a pool of blood streaming from a gash on the back of his head, staining the porch step. She drew in a gasp of frigid air, followed by that sensation of forgetting to breathe as she shouted upstairs for Peter, while frantically dialing 911. Satchmo was barking and circling between her and the doorway, nudging at his Neal's shoulder with his muzzle but Neal remained still and lifeless. How much worse would it have been for Neal, if Satchmo hadn't awakened her at such an early hour?_

FBI Agent, Peter Burke had been on the phone most of the day working with his team as they attempted to pull threads together to reconstruct some reason for the brutal attack. So far, there weren't any plausible leads. It was getting late but Peter decided to check in again. "Jones, have you gotten anywhere with the files on Caffrey's desk?"

"We've been combing through them but none of these cases seem to fit with this sort of violence. I did go downstairs to check on some samples that Neal had taken to the lab for analysis. Cameron confirmed that they were just routine residue tests and that Neal was just delivering them for Cruz." Jones mindless flipped through the file in front of him. "I'm not sure if this is of any import"

Peter cut him off mid sentence; his patience had lapsed hours before. "At this point any little thread might lead to an answer. Go!"

Jones raised an eyebrow and shook his head, knowing fool well that Peter was an emotional wreck even if he wouldn't admit it. "Well, last week for some reason Neal seemed to have an interest in the new micro FTIR that was being installed in the lab. The techs said he'd been stopping in the past few days and even ate lunch with them on Wednesday."

"What's the interest?" Peter wrinkled his forehead. What was Neal doing hanging out with the lab rats. "Did someone new start down there? Is there some new attractive techie geek on his radar?" Peter leaned against the wall outside the ICU toeing at a corner of broken floor tile.

"No, no one new and from what I could see … well … they don't exactly seem like Neal's type."

"You said they got in a new test instrument. What exactly does this thing do?" Peter was now further down the hall and pacing as he spoke.

"Not sure but I'll find out. Oh, one other thing. Cameron did say that Neal took the technical sales rep out for lunch on Thursday."

"Great, see what you can dig up on that rep and what that new instrument is capable of testing." He slid his phone shut and started back down the hall toward Neal's room, pushing an extra chair.

Peter hated hospitals, the smell, the noises, the pastel colored walls, the awful waiting room art but mostly he hated that feeling of helplessness. He desperately wanted to leave the hospital and go to the office where he could do some good but his conscious wouldn't allow it. He couldn't leave until he was certain that Neal was going to pull through. Peter approached the bedside and placed his arm around his wife's shoulder giving her a slight squeeze and a kiss on top of the head. His fingers fidgeted, twirling a strand of El's hair as he was fumbling for something to say.

"You know, he has no idea how much paperwork he is costing me. The whole staff is on overtime, not to mention the cost of yet another tracking anklet. I told the ER nurse to leave it on him. I really didn't think it would have electrocuted him. After all, he showered with it. Man! Did I take some nasty looks for that comment."

Elizabeth stared up at Peter in disbelief.

"Yeah, a look, just like that." Peter ran a nervous hand through his hair and down over his face. "Do you think he is in pain? It doesn't seem like it. Does it?" He crossed his arms over his chest and inhaled deeply, "Dammit, Neal what did you do this time?"

Elizabeth saw the bewilderment in Peter's eyes. Standing, she embraced her husband and whispered, "It's going to be okay." then guided him back to his chair. Peter sat down and left his head fall forward into Elizabeth's hands as she gently massaged his temples for a few minutes.

Elizabeth returned to her chair at Neal's bedside while Peter pushed his chair into the corner of the room, propping his feet on the extra chair. Within a few minutes the rhythmic clicking of the IV pump had lulled him to sleep.

A pain radiated up Elizabeth's back from the uncomfortable position she had chosen and she shifted again in her seat stretching the taught muscles. How long had she been staring at the floor or had sleep crept in betraying her vigil?

She lifted her head and gazed over at Neal's face. His bruised and swollen cheek pushed his right eye closed distorting his handsome features. It was impossible for her not notice how the white pillowcase against his skin accentuated his deathly pale complexion. All the scrapes and bruises were just a frightening indication of just how much brutality his body suffered.

Just then, a tear dropped onto Elizabeth's arm making a wet spot on her sleeve. She reached her hand through the maze of tubing and hesitantly stroked back a few stray hairs from Neal's brow. Shocked, she retracted her hand, as she realized that his hair was stiff with dried blood.

How could someone do this to Neal? She gently clasped her hand over his fingers and laid her head back down on her arm supported by the bedside rail. It was 2:41 am. A full 24 hours had passed and Elizabeth drifted back to sleep.

Vanessa, the night nurse entered the room carrying several syringes in her hand. "I am sorry, Mrs. Burke. I didn't mean to wake you but I need to check Mr. Caffrey's chest tube."

The small nurse easily slipped in between the bed and all the monitoring equipment. Pausing for a moment her eyes quickly scanned the vital signs on the display above her head as she placed the pink stethoscope hanging from her neck into her ears. She leaned in over the railing and placed the scope against Neal's chest. His breathing was shallow and slightly labored, as the RN listened intently.

Vanessa drew her eyebrows into a frown as she stretched to reach a gauge protruding from the wall behind the bed. A quick flick with her fingers sent the little silver ball inside the gauge bouncing upward as she released a coil of tubing. Elizabeth quietly watched as the nurse positioned the nasal oxygen tube carefully around Neal's head.

Standing up, Vanessa lifted back the edge of the gown that draped Neal's body exposing more severe bruises. Her hands gently examined the tube protruding from the bandages on Neal's right side. She looked over at Elizabeth as she tucked the edge of gown back into place.

The pleasant dark haired nurse had scooted in and out of the room numerous times that night but this was the first time she seemed unhurried enough to speak. "He is holding his own."

As she knelt down on the floor, she examined the metered vessel that was collecting fluid that drained from Neal's chest. Standing up, she wrote some numbers on the back of her hand. Vanessa turned the patient ID band on Neal's wrist and then glanced again at the syringes that she had retrieved from the bedside table. "Are you Mr. Caffrey's Sister?"

"No, I am just a close friend. He is my husband's partner." Elizabeth paused for a second. "Neal doesn't have any family." It was a small lie but she hoped that she would get more information with that statement.

"Your husband is a police officer?"

"No, he is an FBI agent."

Vanessa's gaze turned back down toward her patient. It was obvious that she felt sincerely concerned for the young man. "His body is still putting out a lot of drainage through the chest tube. It is going to take some time for his lung to heal. This medication is a steroid that will help with the healing process."

She finished injecting the drug into the IV port and then began digging in her lab coat pocket for a small flashlight. Lightly resting her hand on Neal's forehead, she lifted open one swollen eyelid and then the other examining the reaction of his pupils to the light. "He has a nasty gash on the back of his head. It took over 30 stitches to close it."

Vanessa paused for a short moment with the realization that she was definitely breaking patient confidentiality. However, she sensed that these might be the only people who genuinely cared about this young man. "I am not sure how much information the doctor was willing to give you." She said, as she walked past the foot of the bed stopping to check the pulse in Neal's ankles.

In Vanessa's mind, she was doing the right thing by sharing the information with Elizabeth. All too often, she had observed the cruel indifference shared among many "real" families. However, there was Mrs. Burke in uncomfortable chair feeling exhausted, anxious, and still willing to give all of her strength and being to this friend. The empathy expressed on Elizabeth's face was obvious. This young man was more than just her husband's co-worker. He was someone she loved and trusted with her husband's life every day.

Vanessa walked over to where Elizabeth sat and crouched next to her placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It is going to be a long road for Mr. Caffrey. He sustained many internal injuries stemming from the blunt force trauma of his assault. Do you want me to explain his injuries to you?"

Elizabeth curled her lips over her teeth and numbly nodded her head. Vanessa clasp Elizabeth's hands. "He sustained a serious concussion, a broken collarbone along with 4 broken ribs. One displaced rib punctured and collapsed his lung. The tube in his side is helping keep his lung inflated. He ruptured his spleen, and lacerated his liver. The surgery was to stop the internal bleeding. While you can live without a spleen, it is fortunate that the surgeon could save the organ. You are most likely aware that he did suffer a great deal of blood loss and has been given 4 units so far." Vanessa paused realizing that the long list of injuries was startling to hear. "He also has a broken left leg that will require another surgery to pin it."

Elizabeth began to tremble and tears streaked down her cheeks. "Please tell me, is he going to be alright?"

Vanessa grabbed the small box of tissues from the nightstand and placed it in Elizabeth's lap, handing her one. "I know it all sounds overwhelming and I won't lie to you. Mr. Caffrey is still listed in critical condition. But he is doing very well considering the extent of his injuries."

Elizabeth attemped to regain her composure, "You could get in trouble for telling me this. Couldn't you?"

Vanessa nodded, "Yes, but I feel you deserved to know what is ahead for your friend."

"Neal would like you … you're a good rule breaker."

"You and your husband should go home and try to get some rest. It is not likely that he will regain consciousness anytime tonight and maybe not even tomorrow. He is heavily sedated."

Elizabeth lowered her eyes and shook her head, "No, we can't take the chance of him waking up in a strange place all alone."

"I understand." Vanessa smiled reassuringly turning off the overhead light as she left the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: White Collar and the characters borrowed for this story are the creative property of Jeff Eastin. This story was written and shared on solely for the enjoyment of other White Collar fans. No copyright infringement is intended.

Forged Friendships

Chapter 2 – A Willing Mark

The heavy wooden door to the carriage house closed with a loud crack as June pulled it shut behind her and stepped carefully onto the snow-covered walk. The small backyard glistened in the morning sunlight and the canopy of trees hung heavy with a frosty fringe. She paused a moment to take in the simple beauty of the scene thinking how lovely and peaceful the morning should have been.

However, that had all changed when she answered the early morning phone call from Elizabeth Burke. Elizabeth's tentative voice sounded drained as she gently explained to June that Neal was in critical condition at St. Vincent's Medical Center. Neal had been brutally beaten and deposited on their front doorstep, left to die in the freezing cold.

The alarming news churned in June's mind and she again sensed her own pulse pounding with the images of "her Neal" suffering. A gust of frigid December wind twisted around her legs snapping her back from her thoughts. She pulled the fur collar of her coat closer around her face and hurried up the back walk into the warmth of the manor house.

The back entry to her home was bright and inviting with the aroma of freshly made coffee and cinnamon rolls. June unbutton her coat and neatly placed it onto a hanger in the vestibule closet. The closing of the door produced what seemed like an echoing sound and she flinched in a surprised response. Turning away from the closet, she sat down on the ornately carved oak bench and pulled her boots off placing them onto the copper tray inside the back door. Through the steamed window, she could see her footprints pressed into the wet snow and she shivered at the thought of going out again. The hardwood flooring felt cold against her stocking feet and she quickened her pace as she entered the large kitchen.

It was Cassie, the housekeeper's day off but she had taken the time to make a light breakfast for June, before going to visit her sister. The house had not felt so huge and empty since June had invited Neal to stay in her guestroom. She almost expected to see his smiling face pop around the corner and greet her as he did most mornings. The aroma of coffee always drew Neal out of bed and downstairs on these cold mornings. She approached the table and slid the shopping bag from Mohan's onto the tabletop, slightly displacing the neatly ironed linens. A note leaned against the fresh vase of flowers that adorned the center of table. June picked up the tent folded card and read …

"_Please call me if you hear any news about Neal. I made his favorite cinnamon rolls if he is able to eat. Tell Neal and the Burke's that they are all in my prayers – Cassie" _

Tears started to well up in June's eye and her throat felt tight. There was nothing to hold the emotions back any longer. She pulled a chair out from the table and started to sob.

Dino, the small pug trotted across the kitchen floor and nudged at June's leg. She raised her head and peered down at the small animal through bleary eyes. His tongue protruded from his muzzle in a happy pant, bright eyes beckoning. The cute expression made her smile slightly and she scooped him up in her arms.

"Oh Dino, you don't understand our friend Neal is hurt." She patted the little dog and allowed her thoughts to fade to one of the first nights that Neal stayed with them…

_Neal had fallen asleep on the couch in his apartment with the door slightly ajar. Dino was use to having full run of the house and had nudged the door to the apartment open. He trotted in to explore the room. Quickly finding Neal's bare toes extending over the edge of the couch, the little dog decided to lick them. Much to Dino's surprise Neal awoke shrieking and lurching from the couch. The little dog scattered from the room, his paws barely making contact with the floor or the stair steps on the way down. June heard the commotion and ran to the bottom of the stairway just in time to see a blur followed close behind by a wide-eyed, disheveled and apologetic Neal bounding down the steps. "June, I am so sorry. I don't think I stepped on him. He startled me awake. Where did he go?" June remembered laughing so hard and hugging Neal but he wouldn't laugh himself until he saw Dino peek out from under the skirt of the armchair. He immediately got down on his hands and knees and coaxed the pup out holding him close. "So sorry pup. I know you don't understand but waking up to the feeling of something wet on your feet is rarely a good thing in a super-max." He scratched under the little dog's chin. "I hope we are still friends."_

June looked down at Dino and smiled.

Glancing across the table at the Mohan's bag, she shook her head and realized that the mornings shopping trip was silly but she had to do something to let Neal know she cared. He couldn't have flowers in ICU and she couldn't visit him since she wasn't family. So, she thought he might enjoy the comfort of a new robe from his favorite upscale men's store. He was always impeccably dressed and concerned about his appearance. She could just imagine the awkwardness for him, waking up wearing an open back gown.

The doorbell rang and Dino jumped down from June's lap, barking and twirling around in a circle. She slid the chair back and headed to the front door, Dino close at her heels. Through the etched glass should she could make out two figures. The taller one she recognized as Mr. Haversham. Opening the door, she welcomed her guests into the entryway.

"Mr. Haversham, please come in from the cold. What brings you and your companion here on such a snowy morning?"

Mozzie stepped forward sliding off his shoes and offering to take his companion's coat. "June, please allow me to introduce an old friend of Neal's and mine. This is Dr. Violet Forsyth-Nesbit."

"It is always so nice to meet another friend of Neal's. Dear, you look frozen. Please come in by the fireplace where it is warmer. "June stretched out a welcoming hand and ushered her guests into the great room. "Allow me to take your coats. It is Cassie's day off."

Mozzie nodded his head, waving the two women into the great room. "I know where they go. You don't need to wait on me."

June shooed Dino from the armchair next to glowing fireplace. "He thinks he is the master of the house. Please have a seat." June's warm smile made Violet feel a little less like an intruder.

"Mr. Haversham, you know that you and your friends are always welcome here but I honestly thought you would be at the hospital this morning with Neal."

Mozzie stopped in his tracks, his face ghosting over. "Why would you think that?"

June observed the facial expressions of her guests and realized that they hadn't gotten a call from the Burkes. "Mozzie, didn't Peter or Elizabeth call you? I was sure that you knew. Neal was severely injured last night and is at St. Vincent's. I don't have many details other than Neal was assaulted early this morning and abandoned on the Burke's doorstep. His condition required emergency surgery to stop internal bleeding and he is now in the ICU. The last time I spoke with Elizabeth, he was still unconscious."

Mozzie saw Violet's reaction in his periphery and quickly crossed the room and knelt down beside her. The woman appeared to be in shock. Her eyes locked in a stare, silently mouthing. "Neal, no not my Neal, not my Neal too." Violet sat scrunched up in the over-stuffed chair, her legs pulled up against her chest. Mozzie reached up to touch her hand but she pulled away sinking back into the corner of the chair.

Violet's frantic words were now audible. "Mozzie, this is my fault. Neal was with me last night. I asked him to help me. Glossenger knows that I involved Neal and now you. This attack was meant as a warning to me. Mozzie, please call me a cab. My being here is putting you all in danger."

June stood and slowly approached the young woman. "Absolutely not! You are not going anywhere alone."

Mozzie nodded in agreement. "June, can Violet stay here until I get back from the hospital? This is going to take a face to face with Mr. Suit. I won't trust phones for this type of conversation." June motioned for Mozzie to go as she pulled a hassock over beside Violet's chair.

June handed Violet a tissue from her pocket. At first, the offer went unnoticed, until June gentle touched the woman's shoulder brushing her fingers back through her thick straight dark hair. Violet turned her child like rounded face toward June and reached out to accept the offer. She shoved the folded tissue under tear spotted heavy glasses and dobbed at the corners of her stunning lavender blue eyes. Despite the blazing fire, the house felt incredibly cold and empty. Violet drew herself back into a ball and continued to stare off in a daze.

Several long minutes passed until June spoke, breaking the incredibly uncomfortable silence. "Neal is such a gentleman. He has been staying with me for over a year. He brought life back into this great old house. Agent Burke is so pleased with the work he is doing for the FBI. He has made a real difference in many people's lives."

Violet's shaky hand reached up to adjust her hair band and push her glasses back up on the bridge of her nose. Slowly raising her head, she tucked her hair behind her ears, and nodded in agreement, "Neal is an incredibly intelligent and talented man. It doesn't surprise me that he was doing so well."

June sighed with relief that the young woman was snapping out of her catatonic state. "Dear, how did you meet Neal?"

She raised her eyes and looked out from under heavy blunt cut bangs, to meet June's soft gaze. "It is a rather long story."

June leaned forward with her hands folded loosely in her lap, "I have plenty of time."

"I'm not sure if Neal would want me to share this … I don't want to cause him any more problems. "

June leaned close and whispered, "My Byron was a felon too. I don't think your adventure with Neal will shock me."

Violet wiped the palm her hands down the front of her pant leg and twisted back in the overstuffed chair that almost swallowed her diminutive frame. "It was 12 years ago; I was finishing up my Post Doctorial studies and working for Materials Analysis Testing Technologies in their sample lab. My job was to run demo tests for potential buyers of lab equipment. Neal was cold calling companies; trying to swing free analysis testing services for his art restoration company. I answered his call and within 20 minutes, had agreed to provide him with a complete series of free tests. He was a real charmer even over the phone. "

Tilting her head toward June, she slid one leg down away from her chest. "I was so naive, an easy and willing mark. Before the end of the summer, I had given Neal over 20,000 dollars worth of free analysis testing and hired his company to restore my family's large fresco painting. He and his partner Bryan moved into my house and enjoyed the good life while working at their leisure on the restoration."

June nodded as she listened attentively to the story. Violet was opening up to June in ways she never felt comfortable before. She was so afraid of losing Neal and she needed to talk … really talk.

"June, my doctoral studies involved the development of chemical coatings for art restoration. I had a patent pending on a special coating that would make it difficult, if not impossible to detect repairs to original oil paintings. Neal had completed his research long before calling the lab that employed me. He had his eye on obtaining my formulation and process for making this coating, long before I fielded his call at the lab."

Turning in the chair, she looked at the glowing fire, again drawing he leg back up to her chest. "By the time Neal was working on getting my formulation, I knew I was his mark but I didn't care. I had lost my Dad and with that, loss had inherited a fortune. The money meant nothing to me without someone to share my life. I was all alone and loved the idea of having these two bad boys living under my roof. We had huge parties at the estate and I was living on the edge. At age 30, I was experiencing a reckless youth that I had passed over as a young teen for serious university studies. I fell in love with Bryan and we started to plan a wedding."

The conversation was beginning to get a more than a little uncomfortable for Violet and she hesitated twisting at the ring on her left index finger. "Neal came to me one evening and expressed his concern. The con man had unwittingly become my confidant. He told me that Bryan was more in love with my money than with me. He held me in his arms and begged me not to go forward with the wedding. I told him I couldn't bear to be alone and that I didn't care if they both had been using me. That night, Neal dissolved his partnership in a huge blow up with Bryan, packed his things and left. The next morning, I found my original lab notebook propped against the wall inside my bedroom door. "

Violet wiped tears from her glassy eyes as she relived the memory, her voice now wavered as she spoke. "Bryan and I married but it was short lived. Within 6 weeks, Bryan got involved in a partnership with Marcus Glossenger. Glossenger wanted my formula and Bryan agreed to sell it to him. Neither of the men were chemists and Bryan unknowingly sold him a copy of a bogus formulation. Neal had slipped him a copy of a failed formulation that wouldn't polymerize properly. Later, I found out that Glossenger was furious that the coating ruined several of his forgeries. Bryan was on his way to meet with Glossenger when he was in a horrible car accident that claimed his life."

June gasped, "Oh, you poor dear. She took Violet's shaking hand. Is he the man that attacked Neal?"

"I believe so, he contacted me a month ago. He needs me produce a batch of my coating and then falsify authentication documents for him. He threatened to have my Uncle killed if I didn't comply.

I arranged to install the FBI's new test instrument myself so I could meet with Neal without raising suspicion. I just couldn't let well enough alone. I had to take him out last night for his birthday. If Neal dies, it will be my fault."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: White Collar and the characters borrowed for this story are the creative property of Jeff Eastin. This story was written and shared solely for the enjoyment of other White Collar fans. No copyright infringement is intended.

Forged Friendships

Chapter 3 – The Big Flirt

Somehow, despite all the tubing and equipment, Neal appeared to look a little more comfortable. He was wearing a fresh gown and now lay positioned on his side, pillows wedged behind his back to keep him from turning. The front of his hair was damp and lay in wavy ringlets across his forehead. Elizabeth was relieved to see that someone had taken the time to clean most of the dried blood from his bangs. His swollen cheek was facing upward, eyes framed in dark shadows and lashes smoothed with an oily gel. Elizabeth lowered the bedside railing and gently placed her hand against his cheek tracing its' contour with the back of her fingers. He felt warm against her touch.

"Neal, I am back to stay with you for awhile. The nurses made us leave for a few hours, but I am back now. Peter is meeting with Agent Jones upstairs but he will be back as soon as he can. Your nurse said you need to try to wake up." Neal stirred a little at the sound of Elizabeth's voice and mumbled a soft "umm". She continued gently stroking his faintly flushed cheek and whispered soft words of encouragement.

Time seemed to crawl by as El watched Neal sleep, periodically finding herself entranced by the repetitive sounds of the monitoring devices. Her attention was quickly diverted back to Neal as he again drew in a huge gasp of air though his mouth, rolling his chapped lips under and kneading them against his teeth.

"Oh Neal, don't do that. You're going to make them sore," she squeezed a dab of lip balm onto her fingertip and smoothed it across his parched lips. He stirred again, licking at his lips. Elizabeth felt as if her heart was pressing upward in her throat at the sight of him in such a weakened condition.

Neal turned his head slightly and his eyelids twitched as a quiet murmur escaped his lips. "Come on Neal, open your pretty blue eyes for me. There is a whole floor of nice nurses that would love to have you flirt with them," Elizabeth coaxed.

Neal's eyelids lifted slightly and quickly closed against the bright lights. "Oh come on ya big flirt. You can do better than that", she teased. He turned his head toward the voice and drew open his swollen eyelids to meet Elizabeth's comforting gaze. "Hey, sleepy guy, you're finally back. We've all been worried about you."

His response was low and raspy, "W..wher am I?"

She cradled his cheek in her hand. "The hospital in ICU. Neal, you were attacked and left on our doorstep. Do you remember anything that happened?"

He tried to lift his head and examine the room but the slight exertion made his head swim as he was becoming ever more aware of the pain that seemed to engulf his body. His gaze slipped wearily back to Elizabeth.

"No," his voice trailed off as he grimaced. "H-hurtz a lot. Umm … ccc-ould I have some w-wa-water … so th-th-thirsty," he spoke through parched lips that felt pasted in the corners.

Elizabeth picked up the cup of ice chips and spoon from the tray table. "I'm sorry, sweetie they said that you aren't allowed to drink just yet. But you can have a few ice chips." She lifted his head and fed him a few chips of ice from the spoon. He relished the cool sensation of the ice melting in his mouth.

"How was that? Some more?" He nodded as she slipped a few more chips past his pale colored lips. "The nurses stressed that drinking at this point in your recovery could cause you to vomit. And quite frankly, your stomach is currently held together with a whole lotta stitches and prayers. "

Neal swallowed the melting ice and softly responded "Liz-bet, thh-ank you." his heavy eyelids drifting downward, "D-jou jus call me sw-sweet? Th-thought that waz reser-ved for P-peter." "Don wan him jel-us."

Elizabeth pressed her lips to his forehead and softly kissed him, turning her cheek against his forehead. "You rest, Peter will understand. Birthday Boy." She pulled the railing back up into place and pressed the call bell for the nurse.

Neal's day turn nurse got up from her chair at the nurses' station and quickly crossed the hall to room 811. Elizabeth met the tall thin nurse in the doorway.

"Hello Mrs. Burke, my name is Crystal, did you need something?"

"The other nurse, I think his name was Stephen, said that I should let them know at the desk when Neal wakes up. He was awake for a few minutes and spoke to me but it seemed to take all his strength just to swallow a few ice chips. I touched his forehead and it feels like he is running a fever."

Crystal stepped inside the doorway, removed her lab coat and hung it up next to the sink. She smiled reassuringly at Elizabeth, "Mrs. Burke, please try not to worry. The fact that he was awake and coherent is a very good sign. A fever isn't uncommon following surgery." She dispensed some soap onto her wet hands, "Sometimes, it is just a reaction to all the medicine or even just from the trauma." She toweled her hands dry, "Please wait out here and I will take a look at him."

Elizabeth looked down at the floor. She knew that Vanessa would have allowed her to stay but she didn't want to cause any problems or embarrass Neal so she waited patiently outside.

Crystal scanned the monitors beside the bed making a mental note of Mr. Caffrey's vital signs, she was pleased to see they were remaining stable. Her patient appeared to be resting comfortably but did indeed feel warm to her touch. Removing the temperature probe from its' charging stand, she lightly slid it across his forehead and down his neck, trying not to disturb him. Turning the probe over, she was surprised to see it was reading above 102.

As Crystal reached to recheck the measurement, Neal jerked awake flailing out and grabbing her by the wrist, knocking the probe from her grasp. Crystal placed her free hand carefully against his injured shoulder. "Mr. Caffrey, I need you to calm down now. You're going to pull out your IV."

Neal's eyes darted frantically around the room. Who was touching him? Why was he feeling such searing pain? "Mr. Caffrey, please lay back. You're going to cause yourself more harm. You are in the hospital. Do you remember?"

A sheen of sweat was now noticeable on his brow. Neal released his grip on her wrist as his glassy eyes eased back into focus.

Crystal removed her hand from his shoulder, "I'm sorry Mr. Caffrey, I didn't mean to wake you so abruptly. The temperature probe must have felt very cold against your skin. You are running a bit of a fever."

He stared up at the young attractive nurse with the neatly upswept blond hair. Trying to hide his embarrassment at his reaction, he cocked one eyebrow upward and attempted to flash a sheepish grin.

"Well, aren't you the charmer?"

"M a l-little off my game."

Crystal lightly patted his arm and chuckled as she placed her stethoscope against his chest, "You should be required to have a license to flash those eyes. Now try to take a deep breath for me … and again."

Just the simple act of breathing was excruciating and he tried not to grimace.

She lean over the railing and slid the scope in between the pillows and his bare back. Neal flinched as the cool instrument pressed against his skin.

"Now breathe in as deeply as you can."

Neal coughed dragging in a painful breath, "Uhmmm" he moaned squeezing his eyes tightly closed and biting down on his lips. He could no longer hide the pain that burned across his abdomen and side and he let out a gasp.

Crystal quickly looked over at Neal's face. "Mr. Caffrey, are you experiencing a great deal of pain?"

Neal bleakly nodded his head up and down.

"Try to relax. You are on a Morphine drip that gives a constant dose of medication. Now that you are awake, you can give yourself additional doses as you need them. It will only allow you to self-administer three doses in a half an hour. When you are having pain like this, press this button and wait a few minutes. If the pain doesn't subside, then press it again and wait." She clipped the cable to his sheet and placed the button in his hand.

"Do you understand what I am telling you?" Neal nodded and pressed the button.

"I know that you are very uncomfortable and I am sorry that we can't take all the pain away," her tone sincere and caring.

"I am going to have to turn you in order to examine your incisions for signs of infection. How is your pain level now? Is it tolerable?"

Neal held his eyes clamped tightly shut. "Sstill hurtz a lot"

"It's okay to press the button again. Mr. Caffrey, are you still with me?"

" Th-think m gonna be sssick!"

Crystal placed the small curved basin under his chin and gave him pillow to hold as she elevated the head of the bed. Neal's stomach heaved but to no avail. Crystal pressed the intercom button. "Is Stephen out at the desk?"

"This is Stephen. What do you need?"

"Please bring a syringe of 2.5 mg Compazine to room 811 for Mr. Caffrey. There is a standing order in his chart. Also, page Dr. Turner and tell her he is running a fever of 102.6"

Crystal placed her arm behind Neal's back. "Try breathing slowly through your mouth." Neal swallowed hard and attempted to hold the pillow to his throbbing stomach.

In a few minutes, Steven entered the room with the syringe of Compazine. He checked Neal's ID band as he wiped the IV port with an alcohol swab."

"Mr. Caffrey, this medicine will calm your stomach and may make you a little sleepy."

Neal's grimace softened, "s-s-sorry for all the fuss"

"Stephen, can you help me turn him onto his back?"

Neal drew his eyes open, "P-leas don move me."

Crystal took his hand, "I'm sorry but we have to find out what is causing this fever. Do you want your friend to come in and be with you?"

"Iss El here?"

"She is waiting out in the hall. Stephen, please ask Mrs. Burke if she would mind coming in while I check his incisions."

Elizabeth really didn't want to see what was under the bandages but she told herself she could do this for Neal. She entered the room and smiled at Neal. "What can I do to help?"

Crystal explained, "We are going to roll him onto his back and you just need to keep him company."

Crystal went to the other side of the bed and positioned Elizabeth's hands behind Neal's back for support as she pulled the pillows free and slowly turned him onto his back.

"There, nothing to it. Are you feeling okay?"

Neal nodded.

Crystal folded the sheet down to Neal's waist and loosely tucked it in around his hips as she pulled the gown up exposing his chest.

Neal tried to look down at his chest, "Wan Yu to know, m not us-u-ally sso easy."

El smiled and stroked his hair back. "It's probably best if we don't look just now." Her words went unanswered as Neal had drifted off into a medicated sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: White Collar and the characters borrowed for this story are the creative property of Jeff Eastin. This story was written and shared solely for the enjoyment of other White Collar fans. No copyright infringement is intended.

Forged Friendships

Chapter 4 – Friends and Suspects

Earlier that same morning.

The black surveillance van rocked as Jones pulled up to the curb in front of the Burke's home, crunching through the crusted snow. It hadn't been a pleasant ride with heavy morning traffic, icy streets and Cruz regularly interjecting comments about his driving skills. Jones sighed with relief when she finally got a call from Hughes that distracted her attention away from the route in front of them. He turned off the ignition switch and snapped the keys into the palm of his hands. Out of his periphery, he could see Cruz nodding her head and gesturing with her hand as she spoke on the phone.

"We just pulled in at Peter's place. Yes, the tape is still up. Certainly, we will try to salvage any evidence that might still be here. OK, I'll keep you posted." She turned to look at Jones as she slid her phone into her jacket pocket and pulled her gloves on.

"Man, you might as well have parked on the sidewalk", she scoffed as Jones tilted his head back shifting his gaze to the ceiling of the van. "_Give me strength not to use the duct tape_," he mumbled hoping his comment wasn't audible.

Cruz opened the door of the van, "That was Hughes; the crime scene is ours, what's left of it!" She shook her head with disbelief scanning across the trampled street frontage, as she smoothed her hair back and pulled on her cap. "There might as well have been a herd of buffalo dispatched to this scene. Hughes just told me that NYPD passed jurisdiction over to us. They weren't about to fight for what they are calling a random assault case."

The steam from her breath floated upward as she smacked her hands together and reached down zipping her jacket up to her chin. Jones exited the other side of the van, meeting up with her at the rear of the vehicle. He reached up and grabbed the freezing cold handle opening the door with a loud screech. "I guess it doesn't like the cold either", he joked as he stepped up in and retrieved a shovel and a broom. "Your pick."

Cruz tilted her head and rolled her eyes as she grabbed the broom and headed for the front porch. "Unbelievable! They even shoveled a pathway! I surely hope that they took some photos before they plowed up all the evidence. This is exactly why I prefer to work to work alone."

"Ah … Lauren, I think Peter and El were most concerned about getting Neal into the ambulance." He raised his hand and gestured at the partially snow-covered path leading from the bottom porch step to the curb.

Cruz shook off a chill as she started up the porch steps, examining the railing, snapping photographs and collecting samples. "Have you gotten any recent updates on Caffrey's condition? There's a whole lot of blood smeared all over this handrail."

She turned and started to sweep back the fresh snow from the stairs. With the second brush across the step, the slush rapidly turned to red. She closed her eyes and held tightly onto the railing trying to maintain her balance. This wasn't some unknown victim's blood. She gulped and brought the back of her gloved hand up to her mouth, swallowing hard, stunned at her response. The sounds of the city street went silent in her mind as if someone had turned on the mute button and she was only conscious of her own breathing, of her own vulnerability.

Jones glanced up from his shoveling around the bushes to see Cruz. Her stance was stiff, frozen to the railing. "Lauren, are you okay?"

Lauren opened her eyes, "Oh god," she gasped, "these top two steps are saturated … with Neal's blood." She dropped to her knees sliding her hand down the paling to steady herself. Pausing again, she raised a halting hand, "I'm OK; I just wasn't expecting him to have lost so much blood." Tears brimmed against her lower eyelids.

All she could see was Neal, his always-hopeful grin beaming at her as he flipped that stupid hat on top his head and pointed a finger in her direction.

She removed her glove and quickly wiped any tears from her bleary eyes. "There isn't any more I can do with the porch. Hazmat will have to come and decontaminate it. I'll put some red bio-hazard tape across the steps to block access."

She turned to start back to the van, when a neighbor yelled for her attention. "Hey Jones, I am going next door. The neighbor just motioned for me to come see something."

Lauren approached the red brick two-story and trudged across the snow-covered front walk and up the porch stairs. "And of course they didn't shovel, "she grumbled.

An older lady stepped back out onto the porch carrying a charcoal gray bundle. "We were away yesterday when all the commotion took place at the Burke's." She pointed next door. "Are they okay? They are such a sweet couple. Mr. Burke always shovels for us and his wife even brings us soup sometimes. Sam and I always felt so much safer having an FBI agent living next door. But now"

Lauren quickly interjected, "Mrs?"

"Leidecker, Harriet Leidecker"

"Mrs. Leidecker, I am FBI Special Agent, Lauren Cruz." She pulled her badge out from under her jacket and displayed it. "The Burke's are fine but I can't give you any details about the incident. It is still under investigation. Did you or your husband see anything unusual the last few days?"

The older woman placed the bundle down on the porch floor and wrapped her arms around her body. "Oh no, as I said we were away visiting our daughter. However, my husband did find this bundle in our trashcan. Someone was nice enough to place the trashcan back under our porch roof, while we were gone. When Sam carried the can around to the backyard, he thought it felt too heavy. He found this man's dress coat rolled up in the bottom of the can. Some of the items wrapped in the coat seemed valuable so we didn't dispose of them. We were going to tell Mr. Burke about it but they haven't been home. When I saw you in your FBI jacket, I thought that you might need to know about it."

Lauren bent down to examine the bundle. "Did you and your husband handle the items?"

Harriet opened her eyes wide, "Oh my, we did open it to see what was wrapped in the coat but we put it all back. Did we do anything wrong?"

Lauren sat back on her heels and looked up at the older woman, "No, I just needed to know if you touched any of the items. It is fine; you did a good thing by providing us these things. They could be vital to solving our case. Now, you should get in out of the cold. I will let the Burke's know that you asked about them."

Lauren carried the bundle back to van and motioned for Jones. Clinton unfolded a large evidence bag and spread it open on the floor of the van. Lauren placed the bundled up coat on top of the evidence bag. "The neighbor found this in their trash. They did open it but at least it looks like we have some physical evidence." She folded the collar of the coat back and gently fingered the fabric with her gloved hand. "This is Neal's over-coat, I'd recognize that red plaid lined collar anywhere."

Jones and Cruz pulled on rubber gloves and unfolded the coat. Inside they found a permanently crushed Fedora; a blood stained cashmere scarf; a gold pocket watch with a fob; a wallet and a leather-bound sketchbook. Jones thumbed through the book as Lauren picked up the wallet.

She inhaled deeply, raising her eyebrows and drawing her mouth back into a smirk as she attempting to break the tension. "Oooh, too bad about the hat. I'll let you break that too him."

Jones snapped his head up, "Not me, I'm thinking the humane thing is to just say it was never found. He might want to have a funeral for that thing."

She nodded in agreement and held the wallet over for Jones. "Look the wallet is completely intact; driver's license, credit cards, photo of Kate. This is no random assault case."

Jones opened the cover of the book and turned it for Lauren to examine, "This book is signed and dated; _Happy Birthday Neal. Here's to the good life and forged friendships. – Violet. 12-08-2010."_

"Who is Violet?"

Jones smiled, first with the realization that he knew something that Cruz didn't and secondly knowing that his background work on the technical sales rep was no longer just a stab in the dark. "She is top forensic art analyst and her full name is Dr. Violet Forsyth-Nesbit. She installed the new micro FTIR at the FBI crime lab. It's that new test instrument used to analyze the chemical composition of minuet bits of paper, canvas and paint, among other things. Didn't you go to one of her training seminars at the beginning of the week on how micro FTIR can be used to help detect forgeries?"

Jones flipped to the first page and passed the book back to Lauren. "Recognize the woman in this sketch? Think nerdy glasses and boring lecture. That's Violet and she's an old friend of Neal's. And now it looks like she is somehow involved in his attack. Peter had me run a profile on her." He paused, "Neal had taken her to lunch on Friday afternoon before his attack."

Lauren thought back to the beginning of the week. It seemed like a month ago when she attended that training. "Did you say Nesbit?"

"Yes, it is her married name but she is a widow. She came to town to install the equipment and apparently took the opportunity catch up with Neal."

Lauren tightened her face into a perplexed frown. "If I remember correctly, Nesbit was Neal's first partner and there was some controversy about his death. I think we need to talk with Dr. Nesbit."

The conversation was quickly interrupted by a cell phone ring; Clinton pulled his phone from his pocket and answered.

"Jones here."

"Fall down a rabbit hole, Alice? Want to come to the tea party? In case you've forgotten, I've been waiting at the hospital for over an hour to review where we are with Neal's case. Believe me the cafeteria coffee an ambience aren't keeping me entertained!"

Jones looked over at Lauren and mouthed "It's Peter. " "Sorry, on my way."

Lauren quickly wrapped the items back into the coat, sliding it into the evidence bag. Jones pulled out a pen and started to label it, as Cruz closed the van door and crawled between the console and into the driver's seat.

"Hey wait."

"Oh no, you are not driving in lunch time traffic, my last nerve won't take that." She held out her hand waving her fingers to beckon for the keys. "Give!"

Jones reluctantly pulled the keys from his pocket and dropped them into Cruz's awaiting hand as he settled into the passenger seat.

A sigh of relief escaped Jones' lips as they swerved into the pull-through at St. Vincent's Trauma Center. "Thanks for the ride. I'll catch a cab back to the office later."

Jones arrived on the 12 floor and scanned the cafeteria for Peter. His boss was seated in the far back corner, head down tucked into his folded arms. Jones quickly maneuvered through the maze of chairs and tables and found himself standing looking down at his sleeping boss. Reaching across the table, he lightly tapped Peter's shoulder. The exhausted man jerked his head up and rubbed his eyes, dragging his hands' down over his weary face. "Bout time!" Peter picked up the coffee cup in front of him and swished the dregs around in the bottom of the cup as he muttered, "Gotta get another one, what about you?"

Jones cleared his throat, "Let me get this round. What would you like?"

"Why, I'll take a double decaf latte, light foam," he lilted. Jones stepped back from the table to go. Peter looked up supporting his head with his hand, "No, Jones! Black, strong, black and scalding hot."

"Sure thing." Jones dug in his briefcase for the Nesbit folder and slid it across the table in front of Peter. "Here is the information on Neal's friend from the instrument company."

Peter lifted his eyebrows and look up at Jones as he flipped the manila folder open. "Coffee, Jones, go!"

Agent Burke was deeply engrossed in the file when Jones returned with the fresh coffee. He picked up the cup and sipped.

"So let me see if I get this right. Dr. Nesbit is a leader in her field of Forensic Art History and Restoration. She has a Masters in Art History and a Doctorate in Materials Science. She heads the research lab at Materials Analysis Testing Technologies. Now here is the kicker, she miraculously finds the time in her busy schedule to install a basic test instrument in our crime lab along with offering free lectures and training to our staff. Something just doesn't add up."

Peter swallowed more coffee, "She appears to be an extremely rich old friend of Neal's. And while, I can more than understand his interest in a woman with these means and skills, I can't for the life of me understand what would bring her from her posh home in Connecticut a few weeks before Christmas to do a job that any member of her staff could do."

Jones leaned forward, "If I can interrupt, Cruz talked with your neighbors, the Leideckers, and they provided us with some physical evidence. They found Neal's coat rolled up in their trashcan. Inside the coat we found a number of Neal's personal items including a fancy leather bound sketchbook, monogrammed with his initials, dated and inscribed from Dr. Nesbit to Neal as a birthday gift."

"What was the date?"

"It was dated today but Neal must have gotten it as an early gift. It contained one sketch drawn by Neal. It was a portrait of Dr. Nesbit playing the piano, wearing a formal dress and no heavy glasses." Jones paused, "Also Cruz remembered that Neal's first partner was a Nesbit and that his death was surrounded by controversy. Our profile lists Dr. Nesbit as a widow."

Peter perked up, "This could be the break we needed. Where is Dr. Nesbit staying?"

"The Mansfield."

"Looks like you and Cruz are off to the Mansfield to meet with our doctor."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: White Collar and the characters borrowed for this story are the creative property of Jeff Eastin. This story was written and shared solely for the enjoyment of other White Collar fans. No copyright infringement is intended.

Forged Friendships

Chapter 5 – Inhalation Therapy

Elizabeth exited Neal's room and quickly retreated down the hallway into the privacy of the restroom. Her cold hands, wet with perspiration, consciousness spiraling backwards as she closed the door and turned the lock. Leaning with all her weight against the heavy wooden door, she allowed herself to slide downward onto the cold tiled floor. With each intake of air, she could feel her body shutter as the exhaled breath escaped her lips. Leaning forward, she crossed her ankles and drew her knees up against her chest, tightly wrapping her arms around them, hugging her body. She sat silently, tightly enveloped, her cheek resting on her knees, tears slipping down and streaking her cheeks.

This was Elizabeth Burke, normally a strong independent woman, giving yield to her empathetic heart. She closed her eyes in an attempt to block out the images that permeated her thoughts but her mind refused to let go. Again, she saw, Neal's deeply bruised chest, permanently scarred by the surgical incision that followed the arch of his rib cage extending down his side, tubing escaping from the wounds. Her whole body shivered at the unwelcome thoughts. She had helped to support his injured body and calm his fears. Why was she now the one in pain and trembling behind closed doors?

She leaned her head back against the door tilting it sideways until it rested on her shoulder. Above her head, she heard a light tapping sound on the door. "Mrs. Burke are you in there?"

Elizabeth sat on the floor blindly tracing the grout lines with her finger, not wanting to respond, not wanting to admit that her stable facade was cracking.

The door vibrated against her back as the tapping came again, a little louder this time. "Mrs. Burke are you okay?"

Elizabeth pressed the palms of her hands flat against the cold floor and pushed herself up. "Crystal, I'm okay. Just give me a few minutes."

The concerned nurse could hear the sink turn on and water splashing. "If you want to talk, I'll be at the nurses' station."

Elizabeth could hear the footsteps moving away from the door to her temporary fortress. She braced herself against the rim of the white porcelain sink, her head canted downward, dark hair spilling forward into her face. The person in the mirror was nearly a stranger to her with hair hanging loose and limp around a pallid face. She leaned in closer meeting a reflection of puffy red eyes shadowed in dark silhouettes. With a sigh, she twisted her hair back, tucking it into her collar, as she leaned forward to splash more cold water on her face.

"Elizabeth, snap out of this! You can do this! You have to do this!"

She grabbed another scratchy paper towel from the dispenser and blotted her face dry, opened the door and stepped back out into the hallway.

Crystal was casually leaning against countertop at the nurses' station, yo-yoing her ID badge up and down on a retractable reel. She reached over the counter and stole another M&M from Stephen's snack mix. "Mrs., Burke, come have a seat. We were just taking a break." She stepped forward and offered her a chair at the end of the nurses' station. Stephen smiled at Elizabeth and got up from his chair. "Have some of my wife's homemade snack mix before Crystal eats all the M&Ms out of it." He strolled past the desk whistling the theme to the _Andy Griffith Show_ as Crystal shot him a mocking glare. "He knows that drives me nuts."

Stephen return a few minutes later carrying a small can of ginger ale from their cooler and whistling another old theme song. "Here Mrs. Burke, sorry our soda selection is pretty limited in ICU. Want a straw?" The large soft-spoken nurse extended his hand holding out a bendy straw.

El accepted the soda and took a small sip, "Thank you," she looked down, mindlessly twirling the straw in the can, "I am not sure what's gotten into me."

Crystal rested against the edge of the desk watching Elizabeth, "I know it is hard having someone you care about need this amount of medical intervention. You really were a big help earlier and I realize that you saw more than you were planning on. At first it all looks pretty scary."

The RN shifted from the edge of the desk to crouch beside Elizabeth, "Your friend is doing really well."

Elizabeth looked directly into Crystals eyes, "What about his fever?"

Crystal smiled reassuringly, "Dr. Turner has requested some lab tests and has sent an order for us to give him Caldolor. This is an IV medication that will help reduce his fever and work in conjunction with the Morphine to help reduce the pain. His doctor isn't overly concerned at this time but we will be keeping a close eye on him", she reassured. "He is still sleeping. You should go get something to eat and take a little break."

Elizabeth nodded in agreement, "My husband is in the cafeteria. Can you tell me how to get there?"

Crystal turned and pointed down the hallway. "Get on the elevators at the end of this hall and go up to twelfth floor. There are signs with arrows to direct you from there."

El walked down the hallway and boarded the "B" elevator taking it up to the twelfth floor. As she exited the elevator, she followed the yellow arrows that directed her to the entrance of the cafeteria. Everything on this floor was tastefully decorated for the upcoming holidays. She stopped to admire the beautiful tree at the end of the hallway. A small sign on the wall advertised that the ornaments were available in the Nightingale Gift Shop. "Hmm, I will have to stop and get something for Neal. It is his birthday."

She continued into the cafeteria entrance and picked up a tray and some flatware. Above the cart of trays were display boards advertised the various food court options. The warm aroma in the air made her stomach rumble with hunger. She entered the food court area and headed for the deli counter. Leaning over she peered through the glass case, actually impressed by how nicely the food was presented. She looked up to place an order.

"I'll take a tuna salad on a croissant with lettuce and tomato and one of those fresh fruit plates, please." The food service worker smiled and passed the plates over the top of the glass case. Elizabeth smiled back, a little self-conscious of her tired and wrinkled appearance. As she walked to toward the line of coolers, she reassured herself that her weary appearance wasn't unusual in a hospital. She slid the cooler door back and selected a bottle of mineral water.

Peter glanced up as El approached the table carrying the tray. She pulled out a chair and quietly sat down. Her husband immediately noticed the puffy red eyes and extended his hand across the table, "El honey is something wrong?"

She rubbed her neck with her fingers and rolled her head to the side and back, "Peter, you have to find whoever did this to Neal! He was awake for a little while and he doesn't remember anything. It is really hard to see him so vulnerable. He was in so much pain. It actually frightened him when the nurses wanted to shift his position in the bed."

Neal Caffrey was always cool and confident. It was nearly impossible for Peter to think of the master con artist as weak and frightened and certainly never vulnerable. "How is he now?"

"He is running a fever and was feeling nauseous. The nurse gave him some medicine to calm his stomach and it made him sleep."

Peter slid his chair closer to Elizabeth and wrapped her in his arms. "El, we'll get whoever is responsible for this attack. I just sent Jones and Cruz to interview someone we believe was with Neal the night of the assault." He leaned his forehead against El's soft hair and kissed her cheek, not wanting to let go of his beautiful amazing wife.

El picked up a straw and placed it the bottle of mineral water, taking a long sip as she picked at the fresh fruit salad on her plate. "Peter, I don't think that Neal has been eating much lately. I could literally see all the vertebrae in his back when the nurse turned him. I hadn't realized just how thin he'd become since Kate. Lately, I've noticed that he's been wearing more layers. He must have had some of his suits taken in so it wouldn't be so noticeable."

Peter nodded, "Most days he finds a reason not to go out to lunch. Once he is better, I will have to make sure he goes with me.

The short break away from the stress of the ICU was doing them both good, taking advantage of the time to talk and shore up their frayed emotions. They shared the sandwich and the fruit plate but before they could get up from the table, Peter's phone rang.

El leaned over, "Honey, I saw a little gift shop down the hall, I want to stop and pick up something for Neal. I'll meet you in ICU."

Peter kissed Elizabeth on the cheek and pulled his phone from his pocket. "Okay, I better take this call."

Elizabeth emptied the tray and head down the hall. The Nightingale Gift Shop was a small gem tucked away in the corner of the busy urban hospital. Outside the entrance was an antique flower cart filled with beautiful plants, fresh cut flower arrangements and balloons. El leaned in to enjoy the aroma of the Christmas jonquils, their fresh paper white ruffles filling a rustic basket. Smiling, she turned to admire the elegant garden angel that greeted shoppers as they entered. Literally, every inch of the shop was filled with lovely things, cards, books, candy, candles, jewelry, knickknacks and stuffed animals. Much of the merchandise was targeted for woman or wasn't allowed in the ICU.

Elizabeth headed for the display of FurKins, the wire baskets spilling over with the humorous creatures. She was holding a gray porcupine with blushed cheeks and wispy eyelash fur when Peter approached her from behind.

"El, your niece Stacy doesn't need another FurKin. The last time we visited, I fell asleep on the couch and she tried to bury me in them. Besides I thought you were shopping for Neal and the last time I checked, he was a grown man."

El turned around with a wide grin on her face, ignoring everything that her husband had just said. "This is perfect. What do you think?" She handed the stuffed creature to Peter who immediately drew his forehead into a scowl.

"What's this thing suppose to be?"

"It's a porcupine! See"

Peter turned the tag and read – _Peter the Porcupine_. "Nooo! … Nooo!"

She continued to grin at her husband's expense, "Neal needs a little levity in his life."

"Come on El. Look over there …. a nice travel mug and a card?"

He stood glaring down at the blushing porcupine. "He's gonna show this thing to Jones and Cruz." Elizabeth snatched the FurKin from his grasp as Peter rolled his eyes. "Not gonna hear the end of this."

Elizabeth added a syringe shaped pen to her purchase and box of mints. They left gift shop with El smiling and swinging the gift bag on her fingers and Peter following by her side. The elevator bell pinged as they reached the 8th floor. Peter gave El a gentle nudge as they exited and she started to giggle. He glanced over at his wife from the corner of his eye, "Must be sleep deprivation."

As they approached Neal's room, they notice for the first time, the door to room 811 was closed and the nurses' station was vacant. Elizabeth's stomach lurched as Peter cracked the door open.

A nasal sounding voice announced, "Inhalation Therapy, give me five!"

Peter and El looked at each other with astonishment, "Mozzie?"

A short balding man wearing dark blue scrubs stood facing away from the door. "I said give me five!"

"Unbelievable! What on-line school granted you another degree?"

Mozzie turned and faced the Burke's, "Oh, I assure you that this one is a complete ruse Mr. Suit, solely for the purpose of gaining access to our mutual friend here." Mozzie raised his eyebrows above his glasses and shifted his gaze over to Neal.

"You had better not have touched anything."

"Humph, touched anything, you have got to be kidding! You do release that the prion that causes Mad Cow Disease can't be killed by the current standard for both steam and cold chemical sterilization and that's just the one that they're acknowledging!"

Mozzie crossed his arms and shifted his gaze down toward the plastic bag of yellow liquid hanging on the lower bed railing and smirked, "Well I see they're at least keeping him well hydrated. He is in for a real surprise when he finds out the origin of that tube!"

Peter sighed and ran his hand back through his hair. "Just how long have you been here?"

"About 10 minutes." Mozzie lowed his voice and reached over to touch Neal. "He looks pretty bad … Seriously, how is he doing? "

Elizabeth looked up from her notepad, "He is running a fever but the nurses say his vitals are stable. He was awake earlier and tried to talk to me but he became nauseous and was in a tremendous amount of pain. The nurse gave him some medicine to quiet his stomach and it made him sleepy. I guess he hasn't awoken since I left over an hour ago."

Mozzie shivered and shook his hands as if they were tingling. "It's eerie seeing him like this. I've known Neal along time and we've gotten into some scrapes but nothing this serious."

Neal mumbled and turned his head to the side wrinkling his forehead. "Umm, Vvio-let.

Mozzie reached and gently touched Neal's arm, "Hang in there buddy," picking up his clipboard and spirometer, he motioned for Peter to step out into the hall. "We need to talk … in private."

Peter leaned over and squeezed El's shoulders. "We'll just be down the hall. Come get me if he wakes up."

Neal's paranoid friend motioned for Peter to follow him down the hall. "I don't trust public places for sensitive conversations." Mozzie glanced behind them as they slipped into one of the doctor's On-Call rooms.

Peter sat down on the bed across from Mozzie and placed the profile on Dr. Nesbit between them. "Well a doctor's private On-Call room is a pretty obscure place." Peter nodded toward the folder, "What can you tell me about Violet?"

Mozzie looked up at Peter with an air of mock surprise. "So you know about Violet then." He picked up the folder and skimmed the profile. "Wow, other than that being a really unflattering photo of Violet, I would say that you have most of the facts."

Peter clenched his jaw in refrain, "Just tell me what I don't know."

"Would you like me to start with "_Once upon a time"_?" he scoffed.

Peter exhaled loudly but refused to acknowledge the comment.

Mozzie cleared his throat and dropped the sarcastic tone. "Okay then, you already know that Neal and Violet are friends. What you don't know is …. It has been almost 5 years since they've seen each other. Neal had been, " Mozzie motioned an air quote, "AWAY"

Peter raised his hand and motioned for Mozzie to move the story along.

" and Violet isn't always well. She arranged to come set up your Crime Lab's new test instrument this week, so she could be with Neal on his birthday. On Friday night, he picked her up at The Mansfield and they attended a patron's only opening for the Monet Water Lilly exhibit at the MoMA, followed by dinner at La Genouville."

Peter propped his feet up on the bed and leaned back, "Man I am paying him way too much."

Mozzie continued, "Oh no, she is from money, old money and I would be lying if money didn't come into play with this true love story."

"I can just bet. So what, now that her husband is out of the picture Neal sees an opportunity?"

"No way! Her husband was Neal's first partner. They met when Neal tried to con Violet out of some patented chemical coating. Neal and Bryan, his partner, stayed with Violet at her Connecticut estate under the guise of being art restorers. Neal allowed himself to become very close friends with Violet and then couldn't go through with the con. Bryan seeing that the con was falling through decided to try to salvage the job and pretended to fall in love with Violet. Neal tried to intervene and it dissolved their partnership. "

Mozzie stood up and leaned against the heating unit. "Bryan married Violet to gain access to her money and patents. The coatings she developed were intended for use in art restoration but also had obvious other disreputable uses. Bryan made a quick deal with art forger Marcus Glassenger, who desired the coating to make his forgeries appear completely authentic."

Now looking out the window, Mozzie rubbed his hands together warming them over the heating vent as he continued. "Neal double-crossed his ex-partner by swapping formulations and some of Glassenger's forgeries were ruined. Glassenger blamed Bryan and he arranged for him to have … well, let's just say an unfortunate accident. Neal knew that Glassenger could be violent and has been very protective of Violet ever since."

Peter nodded, finding it interesting that the young con man purposely botched a job and dissolved his partnership in favor of a friend.

Mozzie walked back over to the bed and sat on the edge. "Violet told me Neal left for June's sometime after midnight. She was suppose to meet Neal at the cafeteria in your building Saturday morning, before finishing the installation of the new test instrument. She got worried when Neal didn't show up and contacted me."

Peter swung his leg over the side of the bed and sat up. "Mozzie, where is Violet? I know she is not at her hotel because I sent Jones and Cruz over there this afternoon. "

Mozzie stood and gathered his things from the bed, "How about some coffee? Italian roast, you know the place. Say around 7:00?"

**Author Note: I want to thank all the readers of my story for the kind reviews. This is my first FanFiction and I appreciate any comments that will help with my writing. Please continue to let me know what you think. – SK Musings**


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: White Collar and the characters borrowed for this story are the creative property of Jeff Eastin. This story was written and shared solely for the enjoyment of other White Collar fans. No copyright infringement is intended.

Forged Friendships

Chapter – 6 Sweet Dreams

Elizabeth tied the syringe shaped pen to the paw of the FurKin and perched him on top of Neal's IV pump with a note that read – _Yikes, starting to feel like a pincushion here! _She chuckled a little hoping that the joke wouldn't go unnoticed.

Despite Peter's objection, El liked the funny fury little creature. It offered a soft edge in contrast to all the technical instruments that crowded the small hospital room. She was amazed at how anyone could get use to working around these complex devices, interpreting how the undulating lines and flashing numbers related to a warm living person.

Elizabeth stood staring up at the collection of empty IV bags that hung on the back hook of the four-prong tree suspended above the infusion pump. Three full bags of liquid dangled from the remaining hooks and fed into a vein in Neal's forearm. Earlier in the day, Stephen had removed the first needle from the back of Neal's hand and instructed Elizabeth how to place warm compresses over the puffy lump left by the IV site. She thought it so looked sore and uncomfortable but in the big picture, it was probably the least painful of his injuries.

The hard blue plastic molded chair provided no cushioning and Elizabeth decided to stand and stretch out the muscles in the back of her legs. She slid the chair to the side and turned toward the bed, pleasantly surprised to see Neal's blue eyes following her movements.

Stepping closer, she lowered the bedside railing and brushed her fingers back through his hair, loosening his curled bangs into soft waves. Her hand gently traveled down his cheek, coming to rest along his jaw line. He closed his eyes comforted by her soothing touch. "Hey Neal, How you doing? Is your stomach still hurting? She gently laid her hand on top of the small pillow, he clutched to his abdomen.

"Hurtz s-some. Hhheard yur laugh. Mus be get-ting bet-ter."

Elizabeth smiled, "They gave you another medicine that should make you more comfortable. Don't forget you have this button if you're having pain." She positioned the button near his hand. "Are you thirsty?"

"M hmm" he faintly nodded.

She picked up the cup. "The ice is all melted. Let me go get some more. Plus Peter wanted to know when you were awake. He and Mozzie are down the hall." She pulled the railing back up into place. "I'll be right back."

"Kay," his eyelids drifting shut.

Elizabeth stepped out into the hall and over to the nurses' station. Vanessa was back on duty. "Hello Mrs. Burke. Have you been here since last night?"

Elizabeth's appearance made it not worth pretending otherwise and she shook her head, yes.

"You and your husband must go home tonight. Mr. Caffrey is doing well. His fever is staying down with the Caldolor and so far his test results are not showing any signs of infection." She looked directly into Elizabeth's eyes, "You are going to make yourself sick if you don't get some sleep. Mr. Caffrey isn't going to spring up and go home in a day to two. He is going to need you and Agent Burke for support for quite awhile. Visiting hours end at 8:00 pm … no exceptions tonight," she warned.

El pulled the corner of her mouth into a distorted smile. "I wanted to let you know, Neal is awake and is thirsty. The ice is melted. Could you get him some more? I so feel bad, this is his birthday and all he can have is a little ice."

Vanessa smiled, "I can give you some flavored ice for him, if you promise to only scrape a little onto the spoon at a time. He shouldn't have any real volume of liquid just yet. Let me check on him and then I'll get you some," she pointed to the chair at the end of the nurse's station.

"I need to let my husband know he is awake. He has another friend here. Could he visit for a few minutes?"

"Let me see how he is doing first. I saw your husband and the little balding guy go into the On-Call room at the end of the hall. It's the last door on the left."

Elizabeth thanked Vanessa and headed down the hall.

Vanessa entered room 811 and stepped over to Neal's bed. "Mr. Caffrey are you awake?" She gently touched the top of his arm. "Can you open your eyes for me?" Neal stirred a bit, mumbling as he drew his eyelids open to look up at the small dark hair nurse. "Yur new."

Vanessa moved his arm and lifted the pillow from his abdomen. "No, you just slept through my last shift." She flipped her stethoscope off the back of her neck and put it into her ears. "Let me take a listen to your lungs. Can you breathe a little deeper?" Neal grimaced and drew in a deep breath. "How is your pain level … 1 to 10? 10 being the worst." Neal bit his lip, "May-be an 8." Vanessa handed him the morphine control button. "I am going to have to sit you up," she pointed toward the button.

Neal nodded, "Kay"

Vanessa walked to the other side of the bed, "Let's get a look at where all your drain tubes are running before I move you around." Neal turned his head toward Vanessa with an anxious look in his eyes. "Mr. Caffrey this isn't going to hurt. I'm just making sure we're not going to pull on anything." She turned the top of sheet down and lifted back the edge of his gown. The chest tube was unobstructed and the drain bulb was at his side. She retrieved a small plastic metered cup from the nightstand and drained the pink fluid from the bulb. "You're going to find that we have an odd fascination with just how much fluid goes in your body and comes back out." Neal watched as she sealed the cup and sat it on the tray table at the end of the bed. He hoped that the liquid was supposed to be pink and that there should be so much of it.

She covered his bare side and placed the small pillow back against his abdomen, slowly lowering the bed and elevating his head. "Let me know if you start to feel dizzy or nauseated. You doing okay?"

Neal held his eyes tightly shut in anticipation of the nausea he experienced earlier. "I am going to lean you forward so I can listen to your lungs. You relax and let me do the work." Vanessa supported his head and shoulders and started to tilt him toward her. She could feel him tensing in response to the pain. "Are you okay?" She wrapped a reassuring arm around him and placed the scope against his warm back.

"Try to relax Mr. Caffrey. It's okay to rest against my shoulder. Now breathe as deeply as you can." Neal inhaled deeply, shaking with the little exertion and gasped as a sharp pain jabbed at his abdomen. "We're almost done here; breathe in deeply one more time."

Vanessa pulled the pillow back up to the top of the bed and carefully lowered him back onto the pillow. Neal remained quiet but his discomfort was obvious as he clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. She held the morphine button up into his view and placed it in his hand. "That should help ease the pain. Don't be afraid to use it when you need to," she patted his arm, "Your lungs sound clear. We need you to keep taking deep breaths so you don't develop pneumonia."

She reached for the temperature probe as his wide eyes followed her. "Let's see how warm you are this evening." She placed the probe against his forehead as he rolled his eyes up in an attempt to see the device.

"Liz-beth kis-sed my h-ead w-hen it waz w-warm."

Vanessa held back a laugh, "They warned me about you and those potent blue eyes!" she teased. "This will have to do."

"Tad-lers" his mock disappointment showing.

"I've just spoiled all your fun." She examined the IV site in his forearm. It was still infusing properly but she knew with the amount of medication being pushed through his vein that it would need to be changed sometime tomorrow. Maybe a PICC line would be better for him. She steadied his hand in her palm and examined the raised lump, gently pressing. "Is this sore?"

"Lit-l"

"Let me warm up this compress."

Neal nodded, "Kay"

"You know, you have some friends that want to see you," she smiled. "Let's pretty you up a little for your visitors." Vanessa gently lifted his head and smoothed his hair down in the back. There that looks better." She straightened the sheets and loosely tucked them around him.

He looked over at her with those huge blue eyes, craving attention. "Oh what the heck, I shouldn't … but since it is your birthday" she leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. "Happy Birthday, Mr. Caffrey."

Peter walked in catching the end of the kiss and laughed. "Didn't they tell you he's a master con artist?"

Neal beamed with a satisfied grin, "A-le-ged!"

"And he has a thing for brunettes!" Peter chuckling as Elizabeth poked her head around the corner having missed the whole thing.

Vanessa started to blush as she left the room to warm up the compress, with Elizabeth following behind.

"Well, you look much better than you did this morning and by that, I mean ALIVE. That minuscule kiss must have started your heart."

Neal looked down feeling warmth spread into his cheeks as he drew the corners of his mouth into a slight smile. "Wher-z Moz?"

Peter sat down next to the bed, as he thought through his response. Mozzie had warned him not to say anything to Neal about Violet, fearing that it would upset him too much. "He went back to June's. She was very worried about you. He said he would stop by tomorrow." Peter's eyes wandered down to Neal's puffy hand. "Seriously, how are you feeling?"

Neal's lazy gaze fixed on Peter's face. "Ti-rd … kind-a-thir-sty," he looked up at the IV, "not a-loud to dr-ink. Neal tried to lift his shoulder in an attempt to turn, "hurtz bad w-when I mov."

Peter fidgeted in the chair as he watched his partner struggle with such a small movement, nudging the chair back with a nervous stretched. He wanted to reach out and help but with so many tethers attached to Neal, he feared that dislodging one might cause more harm. "Maybe you should just stay still there buddy."

"W-what's tha-t fuz-zy th-thing," looking in the direction of the IV pole.

Peter rolled his eyes as he saw Elizabeth and Vanessa return carrying a flickering light on top of a container of Cherry Italian Ice. "Happy Birthday Neal!" Elizabeth held the battery operated candle down so Neal could see it and handed him the FurKin. He smiled at the two women, "Th-anks"

Elizabeth grinned, "Your partner here doesn't want you to know this but that is "Peter the Porcupine"."

Vanessa chuckled as she placed the warm compress on Neal's hand. "Looks like Peter might just be the Patron Saint of Phlebotomists," she squeezed Neal's hand lightly, "and with that bad joke said, I will leave you to your visit."

"Well, it's not cake but at least it has some flavor." Elizabeth removed the lid from the cardboard cup and scrapped a thin curl of cherry ice onto the spoon, feeding it to Neal. He licked his lips, enjoying the cool moisture in his mouth. She scrapped another curl onto the spoon and tipped it into his mouth. Elizabeth's weariness was starting to show and a tear dropped down onto Neal's arm. "Oh no, I'm getting you wet, "looking at the cup of frozen ice.

Neal's eyes glistened, "Clo-ser, Liz-beth"

El leaned nearer as Neal lifted a shaky hand and wiped his thumb across the wet streak on her cheek. She placed the cup on the tray and took his hand, pressing her lips against his fingertips.

"Yu nee-d to g-go h-ome. Al be o-k."

Elizabeth's lip began to quake as she nervously fussed over him pulling the sheet closer and tucking him in. Peter approached, slipping his arm around El's waist, turning her to go. "See you tomorrow buddy." El leaned against her husband's side. "Sweet Dreams, Neal."

Neal settled back into the comfort of the pillow as a warm sensation filled in around him, soon yielding to sleep.

_Neal stood leaning in toward the mirror as his slid the knot of his tie snuggly in place and folded down the collar of his crisp white dress shirt. He picked up the plain silver collar pin from the dresser and carefully secured it behind the perfectly centered knot, his long graceful fingers gliding down the silk finish of the pencil thin tie. Holding up one arm, he folded back the French cuff and inserted a silver and onyx inlayed, cuff link and then the other. He looked again in the mirror, thinking to himself, "Style takes time." _

_It had been a long while since Neal had a night on the town that didn't involve an undercover assignment. Tonight he didn't have to pretend. He could just be himself and enjoy the pleasant company of his dear sweet friend, Violet. He knew whatever she had planned, that it would be a perfectly elegant evening. Nothing made Neal happier than a surprise, especially one in his honor. He reached over, removed his vest from the wooden valet, and slipped it on, buttoning it up. _

_The antique white gold pocket watch lay face up on the dresser, a delicate pattern of undulating swirls accented the shield with NC engraved on it. He picked it up and cradled it in the palm of his hand, gently fingering the chain as he popped open the cover. The beautiful old timepiece played its' lovely tinkling music - Fur Elise. "Kate loved the classics." He carefully draped the chain through the front of his vest and tucked the watch into his pocket, patting it with his hand. _

_He sprayed on some cologne and ran his fingers back through his thick wavy hair, curled ends turning up giving a slightly tousled appearance. Pulling on his dark grey suit coat, he retrieved a tiny gift bag from the table and headed for the door. As he exited he grabbed his wool over coat and fedora and bound down the stairs singing "Call me irresponsible … Rainbows I'm inclined to pursue ...I'm just irresponsibly mad for you." He jumped the last three stairs landing and swinging around the newel post, continuing to waltz into the great room leading an invisible partner._

_June looked up from her reading with raised eyebrows as she closed the book and placed it on the ottoman in front of her. "Why you're exceptionally chipper this evening. Going dancing?"_

_Neal winked at June, his eyes gleaming as he broadly smiled back at her, "Maybe, I don't know yet." He turned his invisible partner again ending with a dip. "June, do you have any ribbon I could use?"_

_June pushed the ottoman forward and headed for the dining room with Neal following close behind. She knelt down tucking her skirt under and pulled open the lower drawer of the serving buffet. "I believe that there is some ribbon in this box." _

_She placed an old decorative cardboard box on the dining room table. Turning around she, patted his cheek, "You do look dashing tonight. She must be a very special woman." _

_Neal just smiled politely as he opened the box and removed a length of red grosgrain ribbon. _

"_Do you need scissors, dear?" _

_Neal wrapped the ribbon around a silver ballotin box and tied it in a bow, sliding a delicately enameled holly leaf pin through a single loop of the bow. "No, it's the perfect length." _

_June gazed over his shoulder at the gift, as Neal tucked it back into the bag. "Would you like to take the Jag tonight?" _

"_Thank you for the generous offer, but I've already called for a cab." He stepped forward and gave June an affectionate hug as he headed for the front door. June couldn't help but wonder who Neal's mystery woman was but she pushed her curiosity aside just delighted at seeing Neal so happy._

_Neal arrived at The Mansfield, tipped his cab driver and stepped over to the grand entrance way leading into the lobby of the posh 1920's era hotel. The door attendant pulled open the heavy beveled glass doors, lined with elegant art deco trim and ushered Neal inside. _

_The lobby was striking with high ceilings, intricate patterned terrazzo _marble floors, _and dark wooden paneled walls, tastefully adorned with original works of art. Sparkling potted trees and plants decorated the alcoves and fresh holiday flower arrangements spilled over from every table. Off the lobby was a game room with high ceilings, a huge fireplace and quaint library nooks that featured tables for chess and backgammon. _

_The other side of the lobby featured a sophisticated piano bar with a beautiful domed skylight. Neal entered the bar and selected an intimate table for two in the back corner. He placed his coat and hat on the chair behind him and sat facing the entrance. The server took his order, a glass of Prosecco._ _ It was early for the night crowd, and the bar was nearly empty. He leaned back in his chair and enjoyed the pianist's rendition of old jazz standards as his sipped his drink. _

_Neal was just getting ready to check the time when he saw Violet enter the room. She was wearing a gorgeous fitted black chiffon cocktail dress with a v-neck and full sleeves that were banded at the elbows and trimmed with silk piping. Around her neck, she wore a simple strand of pearls with a diamond clasp. Her hair fell loose from a French braid twisted with tiny pearls. Neal stood as she approached the table and stepped forward to pull her chair out. He slipped his arm around her waist and smiled, leaning over to give her kiss. _

"_Sorry I am running a little late. I am not use to wearing these contact lenses." She sat as Neal pushed the chair in for her. "What would you like to drink?" She looked at his wine glass, "What are you having?" "I'm having Prosecco but they have sparkling mineral water if you prefer." She looked up and nodded, "with lime, please."_

_Neal returned to the table with the drink. "We have a little time until the opening starts." She picked up her evening bag and reached in to retrieve the invitations. With a gasp, her eyes widened, as she felt something strange in the top of her bag._

_Neal was grinning as he took her hand and perched it on top of his, "Is something wrong?"_

"_Neal Caffrey, I will never get use to you." She reached in and pulled out the small silver present. "It's beautiful, Neal. You know Christmas is my favorite time of the year." She removed the bow from the silver ballotin and tied the ribbon around the bottom of the beautifully enameled holly pin. "Will you help me put it on my coat before we leave for the MoMA?" She looked at the silver box on the table as she handed him two Benefactor's Only invitations, to the opening for Monet's Water Lilly exhibit. "Is this box what I think it is?"_

_Neal lifted the lid revealing two select pieces of chocolate candy. She reached in rustling the tissue paper cups and picked out a white chocolate star drizzled with dark chocolate. Neal followed in suit and took the remaining dark chocolate moon. They both held up the pieces of chocolate in a toast, "To living life on the edge." and to that, she responded "To eating dessert before dinner." It was their tradition and they both laughed as they ate the rich chocolate truffles._

"_Violet, let's dance." She looked at him and giggled knowing how silly the request was but she nodded her head as she stood. Neal took her hand and led her to the small dance floor as he gestured to the pianist to play. He stood on the floor and motioned for Violet to step up onto the edge of the low raised dance floor. Even with the help of the step, Violet was much shorter than Neal. He leaned down and gently pulled her into his arms as they swayed to "Call Me Irresponsible". Neal's hand softly trailed down Violets arm taking pause as he felt the outline of an IV port under the soft material of her dress. His face turned somber, fearful it meant that her cancer had returned. He tipped his head down and tenderly kissed her hair. She rested her cheek against his chest and held his hand, feeling safe in his warm and tender caress. For tonight neither of them would have painful memories, just each other. That was their rule._

_The music ended and Neal slowly turned her around in a spin as he held her hand. "You look beautiful tonight." She stepped down from the edge of the dance floor. "You sir are a hopeless romantic." And to that he responded, "Yep" _

_They returned to the table to retrieve their belongings. Neal held Violet's ivory swing coat open for her to put it on. She slipped her left arm into one sleeve but her other arm came to an abrupt stop as she attempted to slide her hand through. Tilting her head back she saw Neal's grinning face. "OK silly, let go of the sleeve." She turned to face him, looking up as he pinned the holly leaf to the collar of her coat and straightened the bow she had tied. _

_Neal fanned out the invitations in his hand surprised to see his name listed as a Benefactor. "What's this all about?" Violet held his over coat open and tucked the invitations in his inside pocket. "I liked the irony of Neal Caffrey being a Major Benefactor of an art museum. It entitles you to attend any opening that you like." _

_Neal placed his arm around Violet's shoulder as they exited the bar. Leaning down he whispered in her ear, "Thank you but this is too much." She reached up and grasped his fingers intertwining them with her own. _

_They stepped out into the crisp clear night. "It is really bitter cold out tonight with the wind. Maybe we should grab a cab?" Neal reached over and fastened the top button on her coat, tucking her scarf around her neck. Violet looked up, brushing his hand away in objection as she pointed down to her flat shoes. "It's only 3 blocks. I planned to walk. That's why I like The Mansfield!" _

_Neal nestled Violet against his body as he stepped to the curb to hail a cab. "Maybe the wind will die down and we can walk back." He raised his hand with a bill protruding from his grasp as a cab swung into the curb. Neal sensed Violet's irritation as he helped her into the cab. _

_The driver turned to accept the tip. "Where to this evening?" _

"_To the MoMA's main entrance." _

_As the cab pulled out, Violet gently turned Neal's face towards her and looked directly into his eyes. "I know what you are doing. Please don't let this ruin our evening. Believe me, I'm fine." _

_Neal turned, shifting his body to the side, "Violet, people who are fine don't wear dresses with sleeves to hide IV lines." He bit his lip, "The cancer is back isn't it?"_

_She reached over and touched his cheek, "No Neal, I'm sorry I never meant for this to upset you. I just want this night to be special for you. Five years has been too long." Violet hesitated but then continued knowing that Neal would not enjoy himself until she explained," I had surgery for my Crohn's and developed an antibiotic resistant infection. You know, my immune system is messed up, so it's just taking longer for me to completely shake this thing. I promise. It's not the cancer." _

_Neal pulled her into his lap, his eyes glistened with unshed tears as he rested his forehead against hers. "I can't bear to lose you too." He raised his head and softly pressed his lips to her temple._

Neal's eyes jerked open as he felt someone touch his arm. Vanessa was standing beside him. "Mr. Caffrey, I am so sorry to wake you. It's time for your antibiotic." She wiped the IV port with alcohol and flushed the site with saline.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: White Collar and the characters borrowed for this story are the creative property of Jeff Eastin. This story was written and shared solely for the enjoyment of other White Collar fans. No copyright infringement is intended.

Forged Friendships

Chapter – 7 Best Laid Plans

June drew the next loop up onto the hook and deftly wrapped the fine thread around it three times, drawing the hook back through the loops to complete the stitch. She counted as she worked the next round on the medallion. The rhythm of the repetitive stitches occupied her mind as the lacy doily grew in her lap. Sliding the hook into the ball of thread, she placed the piece on top of the ottoman and picked up the pattern to read the next series of instructions. _Three double crochets in front post loop... _June read the instructions for the second time as she yawned, reaching for her cup of tea. The china cup clinked against the saucer as she lifted it from its' resting place and took a sip of the cold tea. Placing it back on the saucer, she observed her guest who was now sleeping in a contorted position in the overstuffed chair. Her straight dark hair fell in contrast across her softly rounded pale face, her dark rimmed heavy glasses drifting down toward the tip of her nose. The book that she was leafing through had dropped from her hand and now lay open on the rug next to Dino.

June realized that Violet had to be Neal's mystery woman. Her story fit. She could now appreciate why Neal couldn't allow himself to go through with the ill-fated con. His disposition on Friday night made it all too apparent that he had feelings for this woman, beyond that of a simple friendship. It made June's heart ache to think of how Neal's complicated past always seemed to interfere, making the simple act of sharing his life with someone nearly impossible.

June picked up her cup and saucer and headed for the kitchen. As she entered the room, she saw Mozzie setting at the end of the large table scribbling on sheets of ruled paper, crumpled pieces strewn in front of him. He leaned forward supporting his chin against his fist, his thick brows drawn together in a frown as he swirled a glass of melting ice in his free hand. June sat her dishes in the sink and turned facing the table. "Mr. Haversham, I think you need a break. Your forehead is nearly as wrinkled as that poor linen tablecloth."

Mozzie stopped, flipping the tablet over and looking up at June as he reached to smooth out the table cover. "I thought Peter would be here by now. We need to meet and start to formulate a plan for dealing with Glassenger." June crossed the room and patted him on the shoulder, heading toward the hutch for some fresh glasses. "How about a nice glass of wine? I'll pour." Mozzie nodded in agreement, as she crossed back over to the wine cabinet and pulled a bottle from the shelf. "Maybe you should go in and check on Violet. The poor dear is sleeping in such an odd position. I think she would be more comfortable resting in Neal's room."

Mozzie collected the crumpled paper and tossed it into the garbage. "You're probably right. I don't think she is feeling very well. Did you notice her holding her side earlier?"

June looked up as she pulled the cork from the bottle. "No, but she has seemed restless. I thought it was just the uncomfortable position."

Mozzie shook his head as he started for the great room. He sensed that Violet was in physical pain from her Crohn's disease but he knew that there was little that he could do for her.

From behind, the overstuffed chair looked vacant. Violet was turned sideways, resting her head on the arm of the chair with her feet sticking out from the edge. Leaning down, Mozzie scratched Dino behind the ears. "You being Violet's guard dog?"

The little pug rolled over against the open book and begged to have his belly rubbed. "Okay, Dino. I get it."

He gave the pup a vigorous rub as Dino wagged his tail and barked. Violet stirred in her sleep and her foot dropped to the floor bumping into Dino. The little dog yelped as he scooted under the skirt of the chair. "Oh, aren't you a fearless guard dog."

Mozzie closed the book and picked up Violet's glasses. "Vi. … wake up." He touched her arm as she opened her eyes blinking and feeling for her glasses.

"Here," placing plastic frames into her hand.

"Mozzie, is something wrong?" She craned her neck as she placed her glasses on and tucked her hair behind her ears.

"No, well … it's just that your sleeping position could've probably landed you a spot in Circ de Soleil."

She yawned as she stretched some more, favoring her right side. "Seriously, June thought you might be more comfortable resting in Neal's apartment."

Mozzie led Violet upstairs and opened the door, reaching to the right and turning on the wall light. She stepped inside and surveyed the beautiful artist's style garret, thoughtfully observing all the little vignettes of Neal's life.

A full size studio easel stood facing a wall of windows that lead onto a grand terrace. There was a hint of oil paint and turpentine in the air and several freshly gessoed canvases leaned against the lower panes. She picked up a brush from the large crock on the side table and ran her fingers the length of it. These were an extension of Neal, tools used to express his passion. Placing it back into the container, she turned and realized she was alone in the room.

The wall adjacent to Neal's bedroom held a built in bookcase. She approached it running her fingers along the spines of the books, artistic methods, art history texts and classic first edition novels, even a chess set with an unfinished game. Probably Mozzie, black was losing and Neal was always white. Feeling a bit nostalgic, she made a move and captured Neal's rook. He would recognize the bold move as her style.

Approaching his bed, she picked up a novel from the nightstand … Tracy Chevalier's, ___Girl With A Pearl Earring_, _such a romantic_ … and underneath it a sketch diary accompanied by a box of well worn Conte Crayons. Violet flipped through the pages of drawings revealing, people in the park, random portraits, and studies of individual facial features. Neal was always fascinated with the human figure and faces. His drawings had a loving humanity to them that she admired.

Why had she involved him again? It was obvious to her that he had a life of his own here. He was healing, starting over. Now because of her, he was fighting for his life. She winced and wrapped her arm around her lower abdomen allowing herself to collapse onto his bed. She reached for a pillow to tuck under her head as she pulled his grey robe close, burying her face against the collar. The warmth of her body against the soft gray fabric released the scent of his cologne and her thoughts shifted back to Friday night.

_Bright lights illuminated the front entrance to the Museum of Modern Art. Neal continued to hold Violet in his lap as his fingers glided through her hair. He held her close and tucked her head under his chin. She reached up and stroked his jaw line with the back of her hand. "Neal, you need to let go now. We're here." He lifted his head and shifted helping her out of the cab. _

_Neal paid the cab driver and exited, again sheltering Violet against him. She grasped his hand and stepped away from his side smiling as the wind blew her hair, partially obscuring her view. "It feels like it's going to snow tonight. Don't you just love to walk in the snow? It makes the city glisten. Promise we will walk back." _

_Neal tried to relax and smile as he magically made her gloves appear, holding them above her reach. She smiled broadly, "That's my date the pickpocket. Do I still have a wallet?" He put on a grin for her as they hurried toward the open door. A warm rush of heat washed up from the floor as they passed through to the vast lobby area. Neal helped Violet with her coat as she smoothed her hair back into place. "The opening is on the fifth floor. Remember no souvenirs tonight," she joked. "Awe, you're taking all the fun out of this," he pretended to pout._

_He checked their coats, keeping a close eye on his companion. Violet had never liked crowds and Neal was rather shocked that she selected this event for their celebration. It was clearly for his enjoyment. They stepped off the elevator and were immediately greeted by numerous patrons of the arts. Dr. Kinso, the MoMA curator, hurriedly stepped forward cutting in front of Neal, "Welcome, Dr. Nesbit." He leaned down stiffly hugging and kissing her on the cheek. "We are so glad that you could make it to the opening of the exhibit. It is truly a wonderful collection of Monet's work. We have a tour starting in about 20 minutes and would be very honored if you would assist with the guided commentary on the works."_

_Violet stepped to the side sliding her hand between Neal's open jacket and his vest, drawing herself in tight around his waist to accentuate her point. "Dr. Kinso, normally I would be honored to oblige but I am here this evening with my friend Neal Caffrey. He is one of your newest benefactors and I planned to spend the evening in his company." _

_Dr. Kinso extended his hand, "Mr. Caffrey, so nice to have you join us. I have this feeling that we have met somewhere before. You do look familiar." _

_Neal reached forward and shook his hand flashing his charming smile. "I doubt that we have actually met but I am a painter in my own right and my works have been on display in some of the local museums." _

_Dr. Kinso scratched his chin a bit perplexed, "That must be it. Please do enjoy the exhibit." _

_Neal reached for a glass of champagne from the passing tray, "I'm sure that we will. Violet dear, let's start over here and work are way around. I adore his Japanese-style triptych."_

_Neal escorted Violet to the large 3-panel painting displayed on the opposite wall, opting to dodge the crowd by viewing the exhibit in reverse order. "It is so clever how Monet eliminated the viewer's vantage point in this work. You know he specifically required that this piece be displayed on curved walls to give the illusion of endless water." They stood alone engulfed by the peaceful beauty of the enormous flowering aquarium. This was their world and for tonight, they would be lost in the aesthetic beauty of a great master._

_Neal finished his champagne and placed the empty glass on another passing tray. "Violet, you are surely hungry now. Let me get some tidbits and some more to drink. What would you like?" They walked toward an open black leather bench. "Some white wine and fruit will be fine. We have reservations at 8:00 for dinner, upstairs at La Genouville. And I don't want any excuses for you not eating to excess." She pinched his waist. "You are much too thin. That well tailored suit may help disguise it but you can't fool me Mr. Caffrey. You have to be at least 20 lbs thinner." Neal blanched, "Maybe 8 or so. A good meal and I'll fill back out." Violet shook her head and waved him off in the direction of the servers. _

_Violet sat on the low bench taking in the next painting as Neal maneuvered through the crowd to get some hors d'oeuvres. She leaned back on her hands, gazing up as she admired Monet's ability to capture the feeling of being with him in the garden. Agapanthus, the study of a willowy lily plant accompanied by wisteria, irises and bamboo was a plein air painting from Monet's gardens at Giverny. _

_Neil returned with a plate of red grapes and baked brie spread on crackers along with two glasses of white wine. Violet took a glass as Neal sat the plate between them. "This is nice Violet. It has been too long since I just enjoyed an art exhibit with someone who wasn't bored within 10 minutes." She placed her hand on top of his. "I usually don't attend these openings. As you could see, I needed rescued from those who don't realize that discussing the academic side of art isn't the way to enjoy it."_

It was nearly 7:00 pm, when Peter pulled in and parked across the street from June's large manor house. He could see light shining through the front windows, reflecting off the snow that still clung to the shrubbery. Peter turned off the ignition and looked over at El's shadowed features. She was soundly asleep wrapped snugly in a soft burgundy blanket. Peter leaned over brushing her bangs to the side of her face and gently cupping her cheek in his hand. "El honey, wake up. We're at June's."

El tilted her head away from Peter's touch and murmured. "A-huh."

"El," He jostled her slightly.

"El, honey."

Peter exited the car and walked around to the passenger side, leaning in and pulling aside the warm blanket. "Honey, I need to go in and talk with Mozzie. You can't stay here in the car alone."

He released her seat belt and reached down to help her out of the vehicle. She was exhausted but that first breath of frigid air quickly cleared her head. Peter took her by the arm as they stepped onto the glossy black pavement. "Be careful, some of the spots are still icy."

The cars streamed by them throwing an icy spray up as they passed. "Come on El, we are finally going to get a break," As they darted across the street.

Peter tapped on the elegant beveled glass pane in the front door. He could see a figure approaching through the frosted glass. Mozzie pulled the door open and greeted the Burke's as they stepped into the large foyer. "Sorry we're running a little late. El had to tuck him in for the night."

June hurried to the door and patted Peter on the arm as she hugged Elizabeth tightly. "How's he doing? Is he awake and talking?"

Peter helped El off with her coat as she spoke, "June, he's doing better but he is still very weak and pain most of the time. It is so difficult to see him like this."

June closed her eyes and shook her head, "Poor dear," leading Elizabeth through the great room and into the kitchen. "Mozzie told me some things but I think he glossed it over so I wouldn't worry so much. Please, please have a seat Elizabeth." She pulled a chair out at the end of the table.

El sat at the huge kitchen table and kicked her shoes off propping them up on the adjacent chair. "He talks a little but they still have him heavily sedated so he sleeps most of the time. It was funny, he tried to flirt a couple times with the nurses. You know Neal, all he has to do is open those big blue eyes of his and make a slight smile. They are so nice to go along with it."

June looked over at the Mohan's bag on the counter. "I can just imagine him barely awake and still flirting," she chuckled. "Oh, before I forget, please take this gift for him. It's a new robe to help him maintain his style and dignity. Even Neal would have a hard time being suave in open back patient gown."

Elizabeth looked in the bag and felt the soft fabric, "June, he will love this. Are you sure that you don't want to take it yourself? I think they may upgrade his condition soon and then you can visit. Or better yet, I bet Mozzie could dig up a nurse's uniform and sneak you in."

June laughed as she sat a plate of warm cinnamon rolls and the teapot on the table, starting to pour them each a cup.

"Mind if I join you?" A small voice sounded from the service stairway door. June and Elizabeth looked over to see Violet stepping into the kitchen. June immediately got up from the table and walked across the kitchen, "Violet this is Elizabeth Burke. Please join us. They just came from the hospital." June lightly touched Violet's arm as she took another cup down from the cabinet. "Did you get some rest? Mozzie was worried that you weren't feeling well."

Violet pulled the chair out next to Elizabeth and slid into the seat, "Yes, I think I dozed off for a little bit. I am feeling better now, thanks." She reached her hand over and touched El's. "My name is Violet and I am old friend of Neal's. I am so glad that you could be with him. I didn't mean to eavesdrop on your conversation but I am glad to hear the Neal is a little better. I think your husband is here to see me."

Elizabeth folded her fingers around Violet's. "Oh, you must be Dr. Nesbit."

"Yes, I 'm worried that I am the one responsible for this whole situation. I am so sorry I have involved all of Neal's friends." Elizabeth could feel Violets hand tremble. "Neal was going to help me and now he is ...," her voice trailed off as June and Elizabeth both moved closer placing their arms around the small woman.

"This is not your fault and Neal is going to pull through. My husband will find out who hurt Neal and they will pay for this crime. He is going to help you too."

June handed Violet a tissue as Peter and Mozzie stepped into the kitchen. "Mmmm cinnamon rolls?"

Mozzie looked over at Peter as he started to devour a warm roll, "Now this, this is good." He pointed across the table at the three women, wagging his finger side to side. "Don't mean to disrupt your little hen gathering but I need to talk with Dr. Nesbit."

He motioned for her to move into the dining room as he grabbed another roll from the plate. Mozzie rolled his eyes, "Funny, always thought you could only go fishing for agents with donuts. Little did I know that any pastry could derail them." Mozzie licked his finger and gestured a tick mark in the air as a note to self. "June, could I trouble you to make some coffee. I kinda promised The Suit."

Peter sat at the end of the table licking the goo from his fingers, "So, you are Dr. Nesbit. Mozzie was right that is a bad photo of you in our profile but then Jones did just pull it off the security camera in the lab."

Violet looked at Mozzie for support. "I guess you have some questions for me."

Peter pursed his lips, "Yeah you could say that, since my consultant was last in your company and now he's in critical condition. Can we start with why you think this might have happened?"

The soft-spoken woman wrapped her arm around her waist as she answered. "I came to the city on Tuesday to install a new test instrument in the FBI's crime lab and teach a couple of seminars. I am a forensic art historian. The classes were about how to use modern scientific techniques to detect forgeries."

Peter had heard this all before and his patience had lapsed over a day ago. "And you're considered a renowned leader in your field, correct?" He leaned closer to Violet.

"Yes"

"Then let's cut through the crap. Why leave your posh home in Connecticut a few weeks before Christmas to do a job that anyone in your lab is capable of doing? Why are you really in the city Dr. Nesbit?"

Violet's stomach churned, "I came here to ask Neal for help. My husband was Neal's first partner. We met when Neal tried to con me out of some chemical formulations for special coatings. The coatings were developed for art restoration but could easily be used to mask forgeries from certain test methodologies. My husband was killed when he set up a deal with art forger Marcus Glassenger."

Mozzie swallowed hard not realizing that Violet was aware that her husband was murdered.

"Neal tried to protect my work by double crossing Bryan and it resulted in Glassenger having him killed. Less than six months later, Glassenger was caught in the middle of an art theft ring and was sentenced to 10 years in prison. He has been out for over a year. About a month ago, he contacted me wanting the real formulations."

Peter crossed his arms, "So what happened on Friday night? Did Glassenger attack Neal?"

"Neal and I went out Friday night, first to the MoMA and then the La Genouville. He left my suite at the Mansfield around 12:30. Please believe me, Agent Burke. This wasn't set up to revenge my husband's death. I had planned to take Neal out for his birthday months ago. We are very close friends and have celebrated our birthdays together for years.

Peter raised a halting hand, "So are you the "friend" that for the past 4 years sent Neal one chocolate and sketching supplies on his birthday?"

Violet shook her head, "It was part of our tradition." She thought for a second about their silly chocolate toast. It probably seemed very peculiar to whoever inspected the gift at the prison. It was also disquieting to know that Agent Burke knew such obscure details about Neal's life. He probably knew just as much about her.

"I don't know if Glassenger actually attacked Neal but I am certain that he's behind it. The attack was meant as a message for me, that he will hold true to his threat and have my Uncle killed if I don't comply."

"Doctor, what does Marcus Glassenger want you to do?" Peter looked at the empty table in front of him. "Mozzie check on that coffee."

Mozzie left the room as Violet continued to explain. "Glassenger is in the city and I am to meet with him tomorrow evening. He wants me to prepare a batch of my coating and falsify documentation for his forgeries."

A few minutes later, Mozzie returned with the coffee and sat it on the table along with more cinnamon rolls. Peter seemed more relaxed now and offered Violet one of the rolls. "How does this work? Why doesn't he just forge the documents?"

Violet was looking rather ashen as she pushed the plate of rolls toward Mozzie and started to explain the process. "Glassenger will need to be in possession of an original piece. I will take a very small scraping from the painting and test it using micro Fourier transform infrared spectroscopy. This will generate a spectrum that identifies each components wavelength and its' intensity using a common algorithm."

Peter raised his hand, "Doctor, in English please. I haven't slept in over two days and I am not sure I could even begin to follow you if I was completely awake."

Mozzie interjected, "Peter that is English to Violet."

"I'm sorry Agent Burke, the test is like taking a finger print of the painting. Each one is unique. My lab equipment generates an individual serial number for each test report. These numbers are traceable and fake documentation could be easily discovered. By forcing me to falsify the records, I would be the fall guy for the fraud. Once I have a real fingerprint recorded, I can play with the test results to make them look unique for as many paintings as he needs. The coating is visually undetectable once it is chemically graphed to the surface of the paintings. It will make the forgeries impossible to test except by the most costly test methods. My signature on the documentation will be accepted by most galleries as irrefutable."

Peter picked up his cup of coffee and took a swallowed. "So, you are to meet Glassenger tomorrow night?"

"Yes, I am to meet him at the deli down the street from my hotel. He will take me to a lab facility and I will prepare the coating for him and run some tests on his original. He said he would consider us even if I comply."

Peter shifted his eyes down concentrating as he finished the cup of coffee in his hand. "I don't like this. Glassenger is a violent criminal. I can't let you do this alone. What will you take along to this meeting?"

"I sent a list of supplies to Glassenger last week. I will only be taking my portable FT-IR instrument and my personal protective gear."

"What's that include?"

"My lab coat and prescription safety glasses, any lab facility should have the other common items I will need."

Peter poured another cup of coffee, "Okay. Here is what we are going to do. Mozzie, I want you to take Violet back to her suite and stay with her tonight. I am going to make arrangements for Jones to check into the Mansfield and for Cruz to work in the kitchen. When, Agent Cruz comes to deliver room service. I want you to give her the test instrument and Violet's lab gear. She will return it tomorrow morning with instructions. The FBI will send an agent to protect your Uncle until this is over." Peter reached over and touched Violet's hand. "You are not going to be alone tomorrow when you meet with Marcus Glassenger. With your help the FBI will catch him with enough evidence to send him back to prison for good."

Mozzie, cleared his throat looking at Peter and then Violet. "Are you insane? Violet isn't a trained agent! Look at her … she isn't even well. If something happens to her, Neal isn't going to snap out of it this time. I'm begging you … find another way."

Violet stood up and leaned across the table. "Mozzie I can do this … Neal is in this situation because of me. Agent Burke isn't going to let anything happen to me."

**Author's Note: Thank you to all the readers and reviewers of my first Fan Fiction story. I appreciate all the kind comments and encouragement. I hope that I am keeping your interest so far. Please let me know what you think. - SK Musings**


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: White Collar and the characters borrowed for this story are the creative property of Jeff Eastin. This story was written and shared solely for the enjoyment of other White Collar fans. No copyright infringement is intended.

Forged Friendships

Chapter – 8 Frayed Emotions

Vanessa stretched up to hang the bag of antibiotic on the IV pole, extending the clear tubing and running a stream of the liquid into the garbage can before connecting it. It was turning into a long night with two new admissions, one a young man with a near fatal gunshot wound to the head. Closing her eyes she shuddered inside thinking of the permanent consequences his split-second ordeal would hold for those who loved him. Experience told her that the young man would never see the terror in his Mother's eyes … but she had and with an empathetic smile, reassured the family that everything medically possible was being done for their son. She clamped off the IV tube and clipped it up in a loop.

Scanning Neal's vital signs, she jotted a few numbers onto the notepad she had taken from her pocket, wondering how many times the man in front of her had looked down the barrel of a gun. The ICU nurse regularly dealt with the tentative nature of life however; tonight her emotions were getting the better of her. She reached over and brushed Neal's bangs back from his forehead. At least this man risked his life for nobler causes and not over a gang turf war or drug deal gone wrong. She watched as Neal slept, his bruised and swollen face relaxed, his lips slightly parted with soft snoring escaping as he breathed in a shallow but regular pattern.

Neal's left arm rested with his palm facing upward, extending out from under the cover of the sheet. Access to the IV port was facing down and Vanessa knew that she would most likely disturb him when she moved his arm. Reaching over the railing, she slowly lifted his forearm, laying it back against his chest, as she prepared to flush the IV port with saline. The cool liquid she pushed through his vein burned making Neal's arm twitch and he reached up, rubbing at his eyes.

"Wha t-time is it?"

Vanessa turned as she reset the infusion pump. "It's late Mr. Caffrey, around 2:40 am. I'm sorry to wake you again. How are you feeling?"

He squinted up at the smiling nurse knowing that she wouldn't appreciate hearing how he really felt. "Why c-can nye jus sleep? Those IV bags are lil. Can't you jus mix em together an ge it over withhh? I wone tell honest."

Sensing his frustration with the frequent interruptions to his sleep, she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Mr. Caffrey, you don't know how much I wish I could do that for you but these medications aren't compatible to run together. They have to be given at two hour intervals."

He flopped his arm down, wincing as the IV port landed against the firm mattress. "Wwha ever." He was rapidly growing tired of the kind placating explanations. Each time he was awakened, the extra doses of morphine were gone from his system and every inch of his body throbbed, just breathing seemed exhausting to him. He didn't want to admit it but he felt scared and vulnerable, his normally well controlled resilient exterior betraying him, he wanted nothing more than to fall back to sleep and escape from his misery. In frustration, he jerked his body struggling to change his position. "Ahh," he cursed … "My baack hurtz."

Vanessa eyes' met with Neal's restless gaze. He was so thin; it was completely understandable on top of all his other injuries why his back was bothering him. "Would you like me to get Kathy to help shift you off your back for awhile?"

He turned his face away from his nurse; it was awkward for him to ask for help and even more difficult to admit that he had no choice but to rely on others. "S-sup-pose so."

Vanessa handed Neal the Morphine control button as she called for Kathy to come to room 811.

Kathy entered the room and approached Neal's bed. He groaned as he took in the bright pink colored scrub top covered with smiley faces, praying she was only on loan from the pediatrics unit for tonight. She looked like a kid but her badge was boldly printed with the letters "RN" and adored with a butterfly sticker beside her photo.

"Vanessa, what do you need?"

"Just a little help shifting Mr. Caffrey onto his left side. He has a little trouble with vertigo so we need to take it slow and watch his right shoulder area too. He has a broken collar bone and a chest tube in."

Kathy gave Neal a perky smile, her braided hair falling forward as she bent toward him, sliding her hands under his back. "You're probably getting tired of hearing this but try to relax and let us do the work." With a nurse on each side of the bed, they slowly turned him from his back onto his left side, wedging pillows behind him. "Thanks Kat." Vanessa stepped around the bed as the other nurse left. "Does that feel any better?" She handed him the small pillow to hold.

Neal tried to arch his back and stretch but the pain from his abdomen limited his movement. Clenching his jaw as he swallowed, "S-stil cannt get com-for-able."

"Would you like me to rub your back?" She smiled, half expecting a mildly flirtatious response.

Her heart sank as Neal looked up, his blues eyes wide with a bleakly vacant expression, "Could you?"

Vanessa lowered the side rail and untied the back of Neal's gown. Bending down, she pulled a small bottle of lotion from the nightstand drawer and dispensed some into her hand, allowing it to warm. "Your body has been through a lot in the past few days. It must seem like an eternity, the days and nights start to be all mixed up …. Just try to relax." Her tone with him was soft and compassionate.

She slipped her hand in between the pillows and his back, lightly massaging his tight muscles. Neal closed his eyes and exhaled a relieved sigh as her gentle hands rubbed all the tender pressure points. "If I do anything that hurts, just tell me and I'll stop."

"Feels n-nice, thank yu." She continued to rub gently over his back as her patient's facial expression softened and he drifted back to sleep. Vanessa tied the back of the gown and pulled the covers over her sleeping patient. "See you in a couple hours, Mr. Caffrey. Sleep well," she whispered.

_The snow had started to fall in large fluffy clumps as Neal and Violet stepped under the sheltered entrance to The Mansfield. Their cheeks and noses had a rosy glow from the cold and the melting snowflakes clung to their hair and coats. Neal ran his fingers back through his hair and with a gloved hand brushed the remaining snow from his shoulders. Bending over he carefully lifted his fedora from his companion's head, whisking away the fluffy wet snow before it had a chance to saturate the wool felt. Violet suppressed a laugh as Neal babied the dark gray hat, smoothing his fingers along the rolled brim. _

"_Just how honored should I feel having worn your hat out in bad weather?" _

_Neal smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "Oh, don't worry I think you will find my payment plans fairly reasonable. For three city blocks in inclement weather, potentially sticky hairspray residue… he raised his eye brows as if concentrating on the math … carry the two…" Violet rolled her eyes and gave him a nudge toward the door that was being held open by an overly patient door attendant. _

_Violet was relieved to have Neal back teasing and taunting her like a younger brother. She had missed her friend, his devilish grin, the gleam in his blue eyes, his clever wit and intellect but most off all his tender caring heart. She worried that suffering the indignity of a prison sentence with violent criminals and the tragic loss of Kate, would irrevocably harm his gentle soul leaving an empty shell behind. But the man standing beside her in the freezing cold, fretting about his poor hat and smiling with childlike exuberance was the man she remembered and adored._

_Stepping forward the door attendant greeted them, "Good evening and welcome back to The Mansfield. I do hope you enjoyed a pleasant evening out." Neal nodded, thanking the door attendant and handing him a tip, as he ushered Violet through the elegant art deco trimmed doors. _

_Stepping into the warm lobby, Violet loosened her scarf that Neal had tightly tucked in around her neck and unbuttoned her coat. Shaking some snow from her scarf, she stared down at the beautiful enameled pin that Neal had placed on her collar earlier in the evening, hoping that the concierge was able to pick up her gift in time and have Neal's favorite dessert delivered. It was her last little surprise for his birthday and the perfect ending for the evening. _

_On the way to the private elevator, they passed by the bar and paused to listen to the music drifting out into the lobby. Neal stepped inside the doorway and decided that it was too crowded and noisy for them to enjoy the music and have a conversation. _

"_You know, I'd really just enjoy going up to your suite and relaxing." _

_She nodded in agreement as he placed his arm around her waist and they stepped away from the bar entrance. As they neared the elevator, a look of amusement crossed Neal's face, listening to Violet's flat shoes as they made a clacking sound across the polished terrazzo floor. From above her head, he whistled a tune from a classic Shirley Temple dance number. _

"_Okay Bojangles, you asked for it." She whistled a slightly off-key verse tapping her toe up and down as they waited for the elevator doors to open. _

_He grinned, giving her a playful swat as they entered the elevator. "Oh, give it up, I whistle way better than you." _

_She looked at him with a smug grin, "You started it." Beginning to purse her lips together, he reached over and placed a hushing finger to her mouth._

_The private elevator opened into the suite's huge foyer area. Although The Mansfield was a 1920's era hotel, the guest rooms had be renovated and turned into upscale modern urban suites. Neal placed his fedora down on the low Anya Noir slip covered parson's bench and helped Violet off with her coat. Motioning toward the rod-iron embellished staircase, she disappeared into the suite as he removed his overcoat and jacket, hanging them in the foyer closet. _

"_I'll be back down in a few minutes." Her voice echoed from the vaulted ceiling in the main living area. _

_Sliding the pocket door closed, Neal stepped in front of a full-length Aquitaine style mirror propped against the foyer wall, using his fingers he attempted to smooth his hair back into place. The damp ends were now sticking up in unruly curls, which no amount of coaxing would tame, with a shrug he stepped away from the mirror and entered the living area of the bi-level suite. _

_Neal dropped down into the comfort of a walnut colored Parisian leather chair and stretched his legs out in front of him, popping open the lower two buttons of his fitted vest. Leaning back, he linked his fingers together behind his head, studying the chess set on the coffee table in front of him._

"_How about a quick game of chess? Depending on the outcome, I might consider it fair payment for the use of my hat." _

_Violet responded from the loft above, "Neal, there isn't ever a quick game of chess with you and I am too tired to concentrate that much." _

_He leaned forward and grabbed the remote control for the fireplace. "Excuses, excuses, you're just a sore loser." Neal stared at chessboard as he pressed the on-button, setting the fireplace a glow and moving his white pawn to d4. Leaning back, he stared into the cool blue flame. There was something inherently wrong with a fireplace that had an on-button, much preferring the natural crackle of the fireplace at June's. However this would do.  
_

_Violet leaned over the loft railing, "I object. I didn't lose to you the last time we played." _

_Neal tipped his head back looking up at the raised panel ceiling, "Only because you refused to make the last move. The rental fee for the hat just went up. Sore loser." _

_Violet continued to object, "I was still thinking." _

"_About what? There was only one possible move left." Neal stood and stretched as he made his way over to the bar, pouring himself a glass of Remy Martin from the cut crystal decanter, he swirled the golden mahogany colored liquid in the glass before taking a sip. _

_Placing his glass beside the music rack on the baby grand piano, he pulled out the bench and lifted back the cover, lightly dragging his index finger along the keyboard, allowing his hand to come to rest in a playing position. His long fluid fingers moved along the keys as the piano responded with the first few bars from "Morning Prayer", a simple melodic tune he remembered from his Mother. This beautiful instrument was a far cry from the small spinet he remembered playing as a child. Neal pulled the collection of music stacked on the lid down into his lap, walking his fingers down through the pile … Chopin, __Nocturne__ Op.9 No.1, ____Bach,__ Late Night ____Piano__ Music, An Evening Wasted with Tom Lehrer, The Ultimate Piano Fake Book, Bella's Lullaby from Twilight and Straight Ahead Jazz Fake Book. _

_He rubbed his hand back and forth over his forehead before neatly placing the stack back in place. Talk about eclectic taste. "Violet …. Hey, I thought you said you'd be down in a minute." _

_Neal walked over to the bottom step, "Vi? .. Violet … Violet … You okay? …. Violet," his voice increasing in pitch and volume._

_A feeling of panic gripped his stomach as he grabbed the handrails propelling himself up the steps. She'd been drinking, she shouldn't be drinking … we walked in the cold, it was too cold, too far, too much …. Neal's thoughts traveling faster with each step as memories of the past and present rapidly collided, combining with his fears._

_This was how it all started … The con was nearly complete; Violet's lab notebook and all her years of research were in his position; all he had left to do was disappear. It was a simple easy in and out, but then he found Violet unconscious, her life reliant on his decisions. He hesitated, the door was right there in front of him; he knew the staff would find her but he struggled to step out the door. Would they find her in time? He pulled his cell phone out and dialed 911. He had done his part; the door was right there, he could go and the con would be complete. However, he waited and he worried … yes, yes, he was family …. holding her hand … stroking her hair … praying … conning … lying … loving. _

_As he reached the top of the stairs, he gulped back a rush of emotions seeing that the bedroom was empty. The low bench at the end of the bed covered with an array of medical supplies. He reached down and picked up the IV bag, reading the label, Clindamycin. He breathed in deeply trying to calm his nerves. Mycin that sounded like an antibiotic, she must not have been sparing him the truth. He rushed to open the closed bathroom door, pulling back his hand as he touched the doorknob. "Violet, are you okay?" _

_He could hear the water turn off. "Neal, I'm fine." She pulled the door open finding him nearly on top of her, his mouth gaping open as he stared downward stammering. "Y-you'd been up here awhile … and I .. was starting to worry. Then I called for you and … you didn't answer." _

_His expression revealed more than just a little concern. She took his extended hand and folded her fingers around his, leading him back to the stairs. "Neal, I am fine. I just needed a little more time than I anticipated and I couldn't hear you with the door closed. I'm sorry that I worried you." She reached up and hugged him. "Once I start this drug infusion, I'll be right down."_

_Neal stepped around Violet and sat on the bench picking up a pair of gloves. "Let me help you." _

_Violet looked over at Neal seeing his determination to stay. "Neal, this isn't very pretty and you usually avoid this kind of thing. It really will only take me a few more minutes." _

_Neal's pensive gaze kept a constant watch as he patted the seat next to him. Violet walked over and lightly touched his cheek as she sat down offering him her arm. His hands trembled slightly as he unfastened the small round button and loop closure, folding the full sleeve back. The IV line was covered with some soft beige knit sleeving. He gently pulled the sleeve down exposing the IV line that protruded from her skin, a loop of tubing taped down tightly with a transparent sheet. She could sense his breathing pattern change as he observed the exposed IV site. "Vi, does this hurt?"_

_She turned and looked at his watery blue eyes as he tipped his head up to look at her face. "No Neal, it's a little tender if I bump it and I suppose it would hurt if someone grabbed my arm. But the way it is right now, it doesn't hurt." _

_She handed him an alcohol wipe and pointed for him to clean off the site as she explained how to attach the lure lock device. He carefully pulled the sleeve back into place and buttoned to loop closure, allowing the tubing to drape downward. Violet tucked the bag of medication into a waist pack, set the pump and fastened it around her waist. _

_Neal drew his eyebrow together in a frown, "just how were you going to hide this from me?"_

_Violet shrugged, "a big sweatshirt and the tubing fed up through my sleeve and no one ever notices."_

_Neal rubbed the back of his neck, "How often?"_

_Violet took his hands in her lap. "Only once a day now, the infection is nearly cleared but enough of this. Our rule has always been that for one night we don't have any painful memories or problems. This is still your birthday celebration and I have some surprises left." She smiled, softly stroking his cheek with her hand._

_The clock was striking midnight as Neal lifted his head from the edge of the couch. He was seated on the floor stretched out in front of the fireplace, Violet's arm draped across his chest from her position on the couch above. The movie they had been watching was over and the screen was blank, the dessert plates held nothing but a few crumbs of white chocolate raspberry truffle cake and the chess game was yet unfinished. Neal pulled his legs up setting on the side of his hip as he watched Violet sleep. _

_Most people would describe this tiny woman as a geek, her pale round face framed with thick dark blunt cut hair, straight bangs and heavy glasses but to him she was beautiful. Violet understood more than the facade and accepted Neal and Mozzie with all their flaws. She was guilty of aiding and abetting on numerous occasions. Their friendship had changed her life, risking a criminal record and her professional reputation, she never turned any of them away. Neal now worried about Glassenger and the ill-fated con that now placed her in imminent danger. He would call Mozzie when he got back to June's.  
_

_Neal gently lifted Violet into his arms, tenderly nestli__**n**__g her head against his shoulder as he carried her up the narrow stairway. Taking care not to catch her dangling feet, he shifted her weight moving them away from the railing. She stirred slightly at the movement but continued to sleep. Entering the bedroom, he placed her onto the soft down filled duvet, carefully lowering her head onto the pillow. Cradling her briefly in his soft embrace, he allowed the tip of his nose to trace along the contour of her cheek, coming to rest lightly against the tip of her nose. He could feel her warm breath mix with his own as he hovered there filled with conflicted emotions. __Over the years they had flirted, dancing dangerously close to the line between friends and lovers but neither had ever dared to cross fearing the loss of their precious friendship._

_He closed his eyes, slowly tipping his head down and softly brushing his lips against hers in a fleeting kiss. "I love you Violet, a part of me always has." His words spoken with a voice too soft to be heard by any other than his own heart. Standing, he reached down and covered her with the soft chenille bed scarf, tucking it loosely around her slight body. He wanted nothing more than to hold her close through the night, feeling her warmth against him. When they met, his intentions were to steal her life's work but in reality, she had stolen a piece of his heart, keeping it safe all these years._

_He quietly retreated down the stairs, picking up his sketch diary, coat and hat. As he walked past the mirror he looked at himself remembering Elizabeth's words, "There is a difference between loving the idea of someone and actually loving who they are." _

_Rushing out into the cold night air, wanting to clear his head, Neal stepped to the curb with his arm raised. As he moved from the curb onto the pavement, he sensed someone closed behind but still flinched as the barrel of a gun press firmly against his side, digging into his ribs. "What say we share this cab ride, Mr. Caffrey?" _

_Neal gestured toward the door with a sweeping motion. "My Mother always taught me to be a gentleman. Be my guest I can wait for the next one."  
_

_The unknown man reached up grabbing the back of Neal's neck, roughly ducking his head down as he shoved him into the back seat of the cab. _

_"I usually don't go in for the rough stuff." Neal smoothed his lapels. "But if you treat me right, I know where we can get a nice glass of Courvoisier __and a Bolivar Cuban." _

_The driver turned to face Neal, exhibiting a familiar smug grin as he pulled away from the curb. "Always the comedian, eh Caffrey? Sorry, don't think you'll be returning to the MoMA any time soon and definitely no night cap for you. If sweet shrinking Violet didn't satisfy your needs, it's your loss." _

_Neal raised his hand as a diversion, as he reached for the door handle behind him. "I even gave you a good tip, but here's a better one …" _

_The man wielding the weapon grabbed Neal's lapel and pulled the gun up between his eyes. "I wouldn't try that Mr. Caffrey; it could be prematurely detrimental to your health. You wouldn't want Miss Violet to have to identify you with a gaping hole in your head. She seems rather delicate right now." _

_Neal swallowed hard as he tried to refocus on the kidnapper's face. "Leave Violet out of this … Glassenger's issues are with me. I can provide him with the formulations and a man to prepare them."_

_The gunman lowered his aim to Neal's heart. "Oh it doesn't work like that Mr. Caffrey. Mr. Glassenger has plans for you and your friend. Hope you enjoyed your little romantic evening with Miss Violet. Sad to say it will be her last."_

_Neal slowly reached back this time successfully pulling the door open. His body falling partially through the open door as the street below rapidly rushed past his vision. His assailant lurched forward, yanking him back by his lapel and cracking him hard against the cheek with the butt of the gun. Neal's vision narrowed as he blinked repeatedly trying to maintain consciousness. His hand again resting on the door handle, he pulled up hard._

"Aaaa … Aaaagh!" the scream pierced the stillness of the ICU.

Vanessa bolted standing upright as her chair careened backward toward the wall, rushing across the hall closely followed by Kathy. She approached Neal's bed and abruptly stopped in shock as she saw Neal holding the bloody ends of his chest tube and surgical drain. His gown was already saturated with blood. In his agitated state, he waved the tubes, breathing in a shallow rapid pattern. "They're going to kill Violet! Glassenger is going to kill her!

Kathy leaned over the railing in an attempted to gently restrain him as Vanessa hurriedly pulled on a pair gloves, raising the head of the bed and unsnapping the shoulder of his gown. Neal trashed out violently against the gentle restraining hold, again gasping and panting. "Mr. Caffrey, please calm down. You must stay still for me. Pulling your chest tube out like that can be life threatening. "

She reached under his arm, pressing the heel of her hand tightly over the gaping chest tube incision as Neal struggled to recoil away from her grasp. "Kat, page the surgeon on call STAT, he has a potential tension pneumo in progress and grab some vasoline gauze."

Neal continued to struggle against her with every ounce of his strength. "C-call Pe-ter, pleez, pleez call A-gent B-urk.!"

Vanessa turned his chin and forced Neal to look at her. "You must calm down now and listen to me. Then and only then will I call Agent Burke."

Neal slumped against Vanessa's restraining arm his lips turning dusky. "Mr. Caffrey, stay with me …. Neal … Neal." She tapped his cheek as his head dropped forward.

**Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who is reading Forged Friendships. It is my first fan fiction and I greatly appreciate all your comments and constructive help so far. Please take time to let me know what you think. Sincerely - SK Musings**


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: White Collar and the characters borrowed for this story are the creative property of Jeff Eastin. This story was written and shared solely for the enjoyment of other White Collar fans. No copyright infringement is intended.

Forged Friendships

Chapter – 9 Restraining Orders

"Come on, come on, come on!" Dr. Angela Turner stood impatiently rapid fire slapping the up-button on the elevator, in a pointless attempt to will the lighted floor numbers to travel faster.

"Nooo, don't stop. Don't stop now!" With a frustrated sense of urgency, she slapped the wall with the palm of her hand, turning to run for the stairway. It was 5:37 am, this shift was turning into an exhaustive eternity of STAT pages and the mad dash up the eight flights of stairs wasn't going to help improve her mood. _How could Mr. Caffrey's condition be going south?_ She was planning to upgrade his status in the morning and schedule him to have his broken leg pinned. _Damn this just wasn't her night._

Vanessa quickly reduced the angle of the bed and positioned Neal flat on his back, stripping the bloody patient gown from his torso and applying another surgical dressing as Kathy opened the chest tube tray in preparation. Neal's pulse was rapid and weak, blood pressure bottoming out. The veins in his neck were visibly distended and to make matter worse Vanessa couldn't hear any breath sounds on his right side. His lung was completely collapsing; the outside air had rushed in creating pressure inside his chest cavity. Neal's combative thrashing had compounded the problem and Dr. Turner was going to have to work quickly to save his life.

"Mr. Caffrey, don't you dare code on me! You hear me? I don't lose two patients in one night." She pulled the oxygen mask down from the wall mount above the bed and positioned it over his nose and mouth, turning up the flow meter to 40 liters/minute. Neal's pale skin felt cold and clammy against her hands, his lips dusky, blue eyes half closed in a chilling glassy stare.

Lowering the bedside railing, Vanessa positioned Neal's arm above his head placing unavoidable stress on his injured shoulder, as she painted his side with Betadine and secured the surgical drape in place. Her heart was pounding in her throat as she looked down at her patient struggling with each shallow breath. In reality, it had only been a few minutes since Neal had lost consciousness but it felt like an eternity as they waited, knowing the pace would be swift once Dr. Turner arrived. Kathy and Vanessa simultaneously exhaled as they heard the door bump back and the sink turn on.

Quickly scrubbing her hands, the doctor approached the bed, pulling on a fresh pair of surgical gloves. "Damn it, what the hell happened here? He was doing so well. Please tell me these drains didn't get caught in the bed railing."

Placing her stethoscope against Neal's chest, she rapidly assets his condition, concurring that his lung had completely collapsed and motioning to start the procedure. As a precaution, Vanessa held Neal's right arm in position above his head as Kathy held his left arm down at his side. "Make sure he doesn't move that right arm, once I start."

Dr. Turner steadied her free hand against Neal's chest as she injected a local anesthetic into the tissue between his ribs and rapidly made a parallel incision above the previous one. Inserting a SW clamp into the wound, she separated the tissue creating a path for the chest tube. Vanessa knew that the local anesthetic barely had any chance to be effective because of the criticality of the procedure. However, she wasn't prepared when Neal cried out in pain, forcefully jerking his arm up and catching her square across the cheek with his fist. "Shit, are you okay? Hold him still. I'm almost done here."

Blinking and seeing stars, she shook her head, "Yeah, he, he just barely caught me. I'm good."

Continuing with the procedure, Dr. Turner inserted a large bore chest tube and secured it with several sutures as Kathy connected it to the Thora-Seal. Looking up at the monitors, Vanessa was relieved to see Neal's vital signs starting to improve as Dr. Turner sealed around the incision with a layer of Vaseline gauze. "We really didn't need this tonight. Can one of you explain what happened with Mr. Caffrey?"

Not waiting for an answer, she lifted the gauze from the previous incision and sutured the gaping wound closed, taping over it with more gauze. Dr. Turner dipped her head down and signed with relief as she observed Neal's breathing become less labored and a slight tint of pink return to his lips. She handed Kathy the roll of gauze to place back on the tray as a trail of blood trickled across the surgical field in front of her hand, staining the clean drape. "He's bleeding this much from pulling out a surgical drain? Let me look."

Kathy pulled back the surgical drape exposing Neal's saturated abdominal dressing. Dr. Turner ran her gloved hand back through her hair and shook her head in frustration. Vanessa glanced at the doctor and swallowed hard knowing that as head nurse, she was ultimately responsible for Mr. Caffrey's condition.

"When I checked on him an hour ago, he was sleeping. I was at the desk finishing a chart when I heard him scream. Kathy and I rushed in to find that he had pulled out both the chest tube and the surgical drain along with a line staples. I think he had a nightmare. He kept insisting that someone was going to be killed and that we must call Agent Burke. He continued ranting inconsolably and was extremely combative until he lost consciousness a few minutes later. I had Kathy page you immediately."

Dr. Turner changed her gloves and peeled back the surgical dressing. "Damn, he sure made a bloody mess of this. How could he possibly manage to tear all this open?" She grabbed some gauze squares and began mopping up the blood that was spilling across his chest. "This is going to leave a nasty scar. How much fluid did you collect from his drain at the shift change?"

"Only a few milliliters. The volume has been dropping off significantly since last night."

"That's good; we'll try going without the drain for now."

She injected additional local anesthetic along the now jagged incision before reclosing and dressing the wound. "At least he won't be in pain for a little while."

Vanessa was lightly pressing against her cheekbone and grimacing as Angela turned stripping off her soiled gloves, stretching and massaging her tired low back. "Wow, he caught you good. Better, put some ice on that before it really starts to swell."

An audible exhale escaped Vanessa's lips as she started to clear the used supplies from the bedside. Dr. Turner realized that her tone had been unduly harsh and reached over to touch Vanessa's arm. "We've all had a rough night. This wasn't your fault and Mr. Caffrey is going to be okay. I'm writing an order for soft restraints until we can get rid of this chest tube. Call for an x-ray of the tube placement and his right shoulder and get me a complete blood count. I'll check back before the end of the shift."

Nodding her head, Vanessa picked up the phone to call for a portable x-ray. Sliding into the chair beside Neal's bed to wait for the technician, the weary nurse slouched forward, taking in some deep breaths while trying to regain her composure. She was relieved just knowing that she wouldn't have to face the Burke's with bad news. Praying it could have been the same for the other young man's parents. Taking in one more deep breath, she stood and walked across the hall to the linen closet, pulling down a fresh patient gown from the top shelf.

Unfolding the gown, she draped it over Neal's severely battered body, observing fresh deep bruising along his prominent collarbone. She delicately placed her hand against the painful injury and closed her eyes. "_You poor dear man, I am so sorry this had to happen_."

Vanessa was nearly finished dressing Neal in the clean blue paisley gown as his eyelids fluttered open. Taking his hand in hers, she gently squeezed it. "You gave us quite a scare, Mr. Caffrey. Promise me, no more do-it-yourself medical procedures like that."

Neal lifted his hand sliding off the pulse oximeter as he reached up toward the oxygen mask. "Whoa there," Vanessa cautiously leaned in to stop him. "I need you to keep that in place for a few more hours. I know it's uncomfortable but your oxygen level is still too low."

Focusing on his nurse's face he stared upward, his piercing blue eyes expressing an irrepressible sense of urgency. "Vio-let .. my f-fri-end is in d-dan-ger. Pleez c-call Pe-ter ..."

Vanessa placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "I will call Agent Burke as soon as we have you settled but you can't allow yourself get so upset again. Believe me; neither of us is up for round two."

Again lifting his hand, he placed his trembling fingers gently against Vanessa's cheek. "W-wha h-hap-pend here? Di-d I?"

Quietly smiling, she guided his hand back down to his side, wrapping his fingers into her soft palm. "It's okay; I just need to practice my bobbing and weaving some more. The important thing is that you're still with us."

Neal closed his eyes, visibly upset by his apparent actions. "I-I've n-nev-er hit a-a wo-man … em so sor-ry."

She leaned in close and with a comforting touch brushed his hair back off his forehead. "Shhh, no need for apologies."

Tightly squeezing his eyes shut, he rolled his lips under fighting back the tears. "Mr. Caffrey, look at me", she cradled his cheek in her palm. "It's okay. It was just an accident."

The abrupt clamor of x-ray machine rolling into the room and bumping the wall, startled Neal and he anxiously flicked his eyes open. Vanessa softly patted his arm. "Try to relax. It's just the portable x-ray machine. Dr. Turner wants a few 8X10-color glossies of that sexy purple chest and shoulder of yours for her collection." She smiled, winking at him. "You just lay back and listen to Earl and I will go call Agent Burke for you."

She handed the technician Dr. Turner's orders, exiting the room. "Be gentle with him, it's been a long night."

Peter Burke drew his eyes open and rolled onto his side, fumbling for his cell phone and squinting at the alarm clock, 6:15 am. He turned the brightly illuminated phone screen toward him, trying to focus on the number. _Who would be calling at this hour?_ He groggily answered, as his trepidation began to wrench him fully awake.

"Agent Burke here … Uh huh … Is he okay? … When? … Violet …. Tell him I'll be there as soon as I can … Thank you for calling … No, unfortunately this probably isn't just a nightmare."

Waiting until Peter ended the call, Elizabeth rolled toward him, propping her head up on her hand and wrapping her arm around his waist in a nervous embrace. "That was the hospital, wasn't it? Honey, please tell me that Neal's okay."

Peter softly caressed his wife's arm, "El, honey that was the ICU nurse. Neal had some bad nightmares and in his confusion pulled out a bunch of his tubes and stitches. He's doing okay but he keeps on insisting that he needs to talk with me. I've got to go now."

Tossing the covers back, Peter exited the warmth of their bed as Elizabeth sat up turning on the small bedside lamp. He leaned in and kissed his beautiful wife on the forehead. "El, you need to try and get some more sleep. I'll let you know how he is doing."

El pushed back the comforter while Peter was pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

"I can't stay here and sleep knowing that Neal was upset enough to hurt himself. I saw first-hand the condition of his chest with all those tubes. I can't imagine the pain or how scared he must have been if he pulled any of that loose."

Grabbing a clean t-shirt from the top drawer, Elizabeth was already half dressed when Peter agreed that it would be a good idea if she came along for support, not just for Neal but for him as well. Seeing his partner in his current condition was more than a little unsettling to him. With a guilty heart, he realized just how heavily he was relying on his wife to get him through this situation. However, for now he pushed those emotions aside and rushed down the stairs.

Peter looked up from scraping the car windshield just in time to see Elizabeth hurry down the front steps carrying two travel mugs and a tote bag. She leaned into the front seat placing the mugs into the cup holders and grabbing the lap blanket from the backseat. Hastily clearing the back window, he joined his wife in the warm car, picking up a mug and taking a long sip of the strong brew. "Thanks El, I needed an extra jolt this morning."

Placing the cup back into the holder, he squeezed her hand that was resting on the console between them. He wouldn't lie to himself. He was concerned. If Neal was still in such a distraught state, it might be a bad idea to disclose any details about the plans he'd made with Violet and Mozzie. Compounding that concern, Elizabeth had shared with him that June felt Neal and Violet were more than just close friends.

It hadn't been a year since the tragic events surrounding Project Mentor. If this woman was more than a friend and something happened, Peter didn't want to think about the consequences. Neal had forfeited an additional four years of his life, yearning to be with the woman he loved, to have that hope dashed away in a fiery explosion. If Violet somehow filled that void for him, Peter would do whatever possible to keep her safe. Looking in the rear view mirror, he pulled out into the empty street. El reached over, touching his arm and smiling reassuringly. "Honey, don't worry, you'll get Neal through this."

The staff was gathered at the Nurse's Station presenting the end of shift report when the Burke's arrived. Peter approached the desk, tapping on the counter to get Vanessa's attention. Excusing herself, she stepped out into the hallway. "Agent Burke, Mrs. Burke, my shift is nearly over. If you can wait a few more minutes, I will update you on your friend's condition. You can wait in our lounge," she motioned down the hall to the doorway on the left. Recognizing the look of concern on their faces, she turned facing Elizabeth. "You don't need to worry. He's doing okay."

El stepped forward and hugged Vanessa tightly, noticing her puffy bruised cheek. "Thank you for being so caring with Neal." Slightly turning her head, she whispered, "What happened to you?"

Her bruised cheek was becoming very apparent and she reached up to cover it with her hand. "It's nothing, just an occupational hazard. Mrs. Burke, please excuse me, I must get back to my patient status report."

Peter and Elizabeth entered the brightly lit staff lounge and sat down at the round table, absently listening to the news channel playing in the background. A small Christmas tree twinkled on the counter top next to the microwave and a poster advertising a Secret Santa Luncheon was taped to the wall above a rack holding a collection of coffee mugs. Elizabeth scanned the photos, cards and thank you notes tacked on the bulletin board beside a row of lockers. She smiled knowing that this room reflected the personal lives of all the staff members.

Pushing back the weighty door, Vanessa entered the room, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to Peter. "I am sorry for the wait but I needed to talk with you before you go in to see Mr. Caffrey. As I told you on the phone, your friend pulled out his chest tube a couple of hours ago. His lung completely collapsed, requiring an emergency procedure and we almost lost him. He is very weak but insistent on talking with you about his friend Violet."

Interrupting the nurse, Peter interjected, "The FBI is already aware of the situation with Violet. Based on what you are telling us, it doesn't sound like Neal is strong enough to involve him in any details of this impending operation."

"Agent Burke", Vanessa held her hand up in objection, "I don't think that you understand. Mr. Caffrey isn't about to let this go until he talks with you about this friend. You need to reassure him that the FBI is handling it. Maybe have this friend visit him. I can make arrangements with Stephen."

Leaning toward her husband, Elizabeth nodded in agreement, "Honey, maybe having Violet visit would help calm Neal's fears."

Standing, Peter shook his head, "No, that is too dangerous for both of them. I'm actually going to have one of my men assigned as an undercover agent on this floor."

"Agent Burke, please take a seat." The nurse drew her eyebrows into a strained frown. "If you think that there is any danger to the patients or staff, you need to speak with our security immediately."

Peter massaged his forehead, dragging his hand down the side of his cheek. "Don't worry, I'll be taking care of that just as soon as you're finished kicking me out for upsetting Neal."

Room 811 was awkwardly silent as Stephen slipped Neal's hand into a mesh mitten and wrapped a padded restraint around his wrist, securing it to the bedside railing. Neal lay motionless on his back staring incoherently up at the ceiling, as the nurse secured his injured shoulder in a sling, tucking the restraining strap down under his waist. "I'm sorry, Mr. Caffrey. I know that this is uncomfortable but Dr. Turner ordered these for your own protection. It's only until the chest tube can be removed."

Neal nodded turning his head, his gaze fixated on the plain sterile green wall as Stephen pulled the covers up, concealing the waist restraint from view. "Mr. Caffrey, it looks like you have some visitors now."

Approaching the bedside, Peter immediately noticed that Neal's wrist was secured to the bed railing. A smirk crossed his face as he looked over at the nurse. "Neal, what cha been doing? " He jokingly tugged on the restraint. "Flirting get you into trouble?" He chuckled, "I think you're under estimating our friend here. He'll wriggle his way out of this the second that you leave the room. You can borrow my handcuffs if you'd like. That might slow him down to a few minutes in his current condition."

Neal abruptly turned his head to face Peter. "I-it's not fun-ny!" He gasped straining to lift his head from the pillow. "I-I hit a nurse." His face now reddening with embarrassment, "I hit a-a wo-man in the f-ace. Don't need to w-worry a-bout me wrigg-ling out of a-any-thing!" In exasperation he struck the bed railing, his mesh encased hand, balled into a tight fist.

Wincing, El stepped quickly to Neal's side scooping up his tightly clenched hand, enfolding it in her gentle grasp. "Neal, whatever happened. I am sure it was an accident." Dropping her eyes down to the restraint around his wrist and then looking back up at the nurse. "Are these really necessary?"

Steven leaned over and temporarily released the wrist restraint. Standing, the nurse spoke to Neal in a soft but serious tone. "Mr. Caffrey, please try to relax. These are only in place to keep you from pulling out your chest tube while you sleep. Dr. Turner ordered them because you almost died last night." He pointed to the padded lump under Neal's arm. "There's no need for you to worry. Vanessa is okay and she doesn't blame you. She felt terrible that they had to insert another chest tube with very little anesthetic. This was an accident, an unfortunate accident because you were in pain."

Looking at the nurse, Elizabeth nodded her head. "He understands. This is just hard for him to accept. It is so out of his character."

The restraint easily slipped off Neal's slender hand as Elizabeth gently coaxed his fingers to release their grip, lightly massaging the indents in his palm. "See, no one blames you."

Wearily fighting the deep fatigue, Neal dropped his head onto the pillow, curling his long fingers around El's pinky. From the very first day in the Burke's living room, El had a way of putting Neal at ease, making him feel welcome and trusted.

"Mr. Caffrey, I will leave you to your visit. If you need anything, just use your call button."

Peter stiffly patted Neal's shoulder. "Sorry about the badly timed humor. You know I'm not great with the whole bedside consoling …"

"R-re-lax, I don't pl-an on cry-ing ... jus need yu to cow-boy up, bud-dy." He gave El a slight smile. "Cou-d yu pleaz raise my h-ead." Grimacing slightly as he pushed the morphine button. "En try not ta f-old me in h-alf."

Leaning over, Peter located the bed controls. "There's one here labeled Murphy bed. Will that do?" Peter taunted as he slowly raised the head of the bed. "Tell me when to stop."

"That's g-ood." Neal attempted to shift into a more comfortable position as Elizabeth came to his rescue with a second pillow for him to hold.

"Th-anks, Liz-beth." He murmured, hugging the pillow to his aching stomach, the effectiveness of the numbing medication lessening. Trying to recover some strength, Neal closed his eyes, his breathing deliberate and shallow and face void of any coloration. Watching Neal in this fragile state made El's heart break. It was all she could do to restrain herself from calling for the nurse as Neal opened his eyes and stared over at Peter.

"Pe-ter we need to t-talk a-bout my f-rend … Violet. S-shez in dan-ger. Mar-cus Glas-en-ger's men a-tacked me an ther going to k-kill her. Once she sh-shows them how ta m-make the c-oat-ing … she-z dead." Neal licked his dry lips and pushed his head heavily back into the pillow, closing his eyes in exhaustion. "Nee-d a dr-ink."

"Are you allowed to drink or should El get you some ice?"

"Nn-no, I can dr-ink now." He extended his trembling hand and pointed to the cup and pitcher on the bedside tray.

El quickly stepped to the other side of the bed and poured a small amount of water into a paper cup. Adjusting the straw, she held it to his lips allowing Neal to sip. He gazed up at his friend, taking a pause to breathe through his mouth, as the water dripped from the straw onto his gown. El quickly tipped the straw up and blotted at the gown with a tissue.

"Ox-gen make-s my ... mm-outh dry."

El stroked his hair in a soothing repetitive fashion, curling a longer strand back behind his ear.

"You take your time, Neal. We're here to help you."

He nodded his head to thank her as he took another small sip. "Nuff, th-thank-s"

Peter stood at Neal's side feeling useless, relieved that Elizabeth was so patient and caring with his friend and partner. Seeing the younger man struggling with the simple task of taking a sip of water made him furious. He wanted nothing more than to locate Marcus Glassenger this minute and personally make him pay for all of Neal's injuries.

"Neal, we met Violet last night at June's. Mozzie is staying with her and I have Jones and Cruz undercover at the hotel. There's also a detail of men watching her uncle."

"Use Moz … h-he'll co-oper-ate with the bu-reau s-since it's for Vio-let. Don p-push him th-ough."

"Neal, please stop talking and let me explain. You're exhausted." Peter pulled the chair up close to the bedside and sat down. "Violet is to meet with Glassenger to run some tests on a painting then and show him how to make her coating."

Neal started to shake his head in objection, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Pe-ter, yu can't l-let her m-eet with him. He'z plan-ing to k-kill her … to m-make me p-ay! He m-ost likely w-will hire a stu-dent or c-che-mist … to l-earn t-the pro-cess. It h-as to be m-made in-a l-ab ... w-with the righ-t f-facil-ities … Moz c-can help nar-row tha-t d-down."

"Neal, please …"

"Vio-let w-will want fr-esh lots … of the che-micals. Her for-mula is o-ver tw-twelve year-s old and s-ome … of the che-micals h-have to be im-ported fro-m Ch-ina. Im-port lawz ch-ange … b-be-cause of en-viron-ment con-cerns. Yu n-eed to tr-track the chem.-ical sup-pliers." He stopped and drew in a ragged breath, wincing and holding the pillow tighter.

"I see your point but will still have to catch him with the stolen painting, forgeries and or the coating."

Neal jerked himself up, leaning near Peter's face and snapping. "NO! YU CAN'T … T-AKE VIO-LET!"

Peter gently pressed his partner back against the bed. "Neal, please calm down or we'll be asked to leave."

"Yu don under-stand." Neal grabbed Peter's sleeve and pulled. "Glass-en-ger is too … ss-mart for a gr-ab and go. H-he'll ch-eck for w-wires an tr-ack-ing de-vices. Yu can-t … r-rely on them … to know w-where she'll be tak-en."

Elizabeth nervously looked at her husband as Neal's face reddened and he started gasp. "Neal, please lay back and drink a little water. Try to relax and breathe slowly."

She held the straw to his lips as choked down a few sips of water. Again gasping, he looked into Elizabeth's eyes. "El, I love her." He'd said it aloud. At that moment, the words didn't seem so scary but the thought of losing her terrified him. "I-I can't l-loose her."

Peter tried to mask his emotions and reassure his partner that Violet would be protected. "Neal, the crime lab has placed a bug and a tracking device inside her test instrument. The instrument can be powered up without the devices being detectable. They don't activate until she closes a sample in the test chamber. We will have cars in the streets and eyes in the sky."

"Pleaz Pe-ter, don't take th-this chance … tr-rack the chem-ical im-ports. Kee-p her a-way fro-m him. PLEAZ! Neal's voice suddenly became loud and wavering.

Trying to placate Neal, Elizabeth picked up the cup of water from the tray table. In a fit of frustration, he grabbed the cup, squeezing it and splashing water all over himself."

Amid the commotion, the Burke's hadn't noticed Crystal hastily entering the room with a stern look on her face. "I'm sorry but I am going to have to end this visit. That's the second time I heard Mr. Caffrey's voice out in the hallway."

Peter apologized to the nurse as El quickly said goodbye to Neal, kissing him on the cheek. "Neal, I'm so sorry we upset you. Peter will keep her safe. We'll stop back when you're feeling up to having visitors."

Crystal exited the room behind the Burke's, stopping them in the hall to discuss Mr. Caffrey's condition. "You realize that your friend is extremely weak and placing him under this amount of stress is unacceptable. I insist that you allow him to rest until tomorrow. If there are any significant changes to his condition, I will contact you immediately."

Peter held his hands down at his side in quiet surrender. "We're very sorry. It wasn't are intention to upset Neal. We'll check at the desk before we visit again. If he asks, please reassure him that his friend Violet is safe. Tell him he has Peter Burke's promise of that."

Crystal nodded in agreement, as she headed for the linen closet to retrieve a towel and dry gown.

"Mr. Caffrey, are you comfortable with me changing you into something dry or would you prefer Stephen to come in to help?"

Neal was exhausted but he saw one last chance to help Violet. "I-it's o-k with me." He smiled weakly at her, drawing his pale blue eyes to the side in an upward gaze.

"Oh I see my big flirt is back in action."

She patted his hand and pulled his covers around his waist, peeling off the wet gown. Lowering the bed railing, she carefully leaned in and blotted him dry with a thin white towel, her lab coat pocket dragging across the edge of the bed. Neal knew his hands were shaky but he hoped her movement against the side of the bed would help disguise his clumsy attempt at lifting the phone from her pocket. He almost had the compact phone concealed in his palm when the quaking of his hand dislodged it, dropping it onto the bed in clear view. Neal quickly slid his hand down his side snatching the phone as he distracted her with an abrupt cough and an overly dramatic grimace.

"Are you okay, Mr. Caffrey? Let's get you dressed and back under the warm covers."

The unsuspecting nurse turned to pick up the dry gown as Neal concealed the phone in his palm and slid it inside his sling.

"Now let's get you settled in Mr. Caffrey. It's only 8:00 a.m. and you've already had too big a day."

Crystal finished dressing him and carefully slid his hand into the restraint, securing it loosely to the bed railing.

"I'm sorry about the restraints. I know they're uncomfortable but it's for your own safety. I tried not to draw it up very tightly to the bed. I think if you feel it pull against your wrist that will be enough to wake you."

She carefully tucked the covers up close around his face in warm cocoon and raised the side railing back into place. "Try to get some sleep now."

She quietly exited the room turning the overhead light off.

As Peter had predicted, Neal easily wriggled out of the restraint, retrieving the phone and quickly dialing.

"H-hel-lo Moz … I need your h-elp."

_**Authors Note: Again thank you for all the kind and helpful reviews. Please be sure to let me know what you think about the latest chapter. - SK Musings**_


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: White Collar and the characters borrowed for this story are the creative property of Jeff Eastin. This story was written and shared solely for the enjoyment of other White Collar fans. No copyright infringement is intended.

Forged Friendships

Chapter – 10 Hiding Places

Mozzie sat back supported in the comfort of the Parisian leather chair, his right hand rhythmically dipping back and forth directing a recording of Mozart's, Die Zauberflote. The music flowed in time with the blue hued flames dancing in the fireplace. He inhaled deeply enjoying the bouquet of the fine wine before placing the thin lip of the crystal goblet to his mouth, taking another sip of the Châteauneuf-du-Pape Blanc. The wine settled warming his belly as he tipped his head back slipping another blue point oyster flavored with Mignonette sauce into his mouth. Mozzie smiled contentedly, rocking his head in time to the soft music as he raised his gaze upward looking through half closed eyes at the ornately carved ceiling panels.

The chess game was an easy victory that barely held his attention. Violet was nervously distracted, making moves without her usual methodical tactics and it seemed like a benevolent act when he slipped a dose of Valium into her drink. Mozzie held back a laugh as he heard muffled snoring sounds filtering down into the living area from above.

Leaning forward, he once again stared at the chessboard with disbelief that Neal was the one responsible for the weak defense posed to Violet in the game that they had just finished. Neal was a man of strategy, a formidable opponent and unyielding warrior when engaged. Mozzie closed his eyes and sighed fully cognizant that Neal was allowing his romantic sentimental heart to take the lead in this dangerous situation.

Pushing the empty plate of oyster shells to the side, Mozzie grasped the stem of the goblet and stared through the cut facets at the fractured glistening flames leaping inside the crystal kaleidoscope. His alcohol-steeped thoughts turned philosophical musing about the perception of the world through creative and innocent childlike eyes. "Wonder if this perspective was the catalyst for Cubism?" Mozzie drained the glass; placing it on the coffee table and wrapping the golden chenille throw around him as he settled in enjoying the warm satisfied sensation. His conscious mind yielding to slumber as the cool hues of cobalt and sapphire flames shifted out of focus.

Filtered nature light barely illuminated the living area as Mozzie awoke holding a creamy soft pillow to his cheek like a lover, his body tangled tightly within the confines of the golden chenille throw. "Hang on will ya." The buzzing of the cell phone against the coffee table rudely jolted him back from his dreams. Working a hand free from the tangled fringed edging, he grabbed for the annoying device and flipped it over, staring at the name on the caller ID. "Look, I don't know how you got this number but I don't know any Crystal Tomberland. Next time the numbers look like a moving target, get the bartender to dial for ya. Just don't wake me again."

""H-hel-lo Moz … I need your h-elp." The voice on the other end of the call sounded unusually hushed and strained.

"Neal? Neal is that you? Man, you sound terrible. Slow down, I didn't quite catch all of that. Can you talk a little louder? This is a really bad connection." Mozzie pulled his feet down from the edge of the coffee table as he searched for the remote control. "Hold on a sec." Digging his hand down into the side of the leather chair, he retrieved the remote and turned off the music.

"Moz … Pe-ter visit-ed me this morn-ing an his reck-less plan is go-ing to get Vio-let killed. I lift-ed a phone from my nurse so I-I can't speak up and I-I might nee-d to c-ut this con-versation short."

"I know all about The Suit's plan. I'm here at the hotel with Violet and she's holding it together so far. Neal, you need to hang up and just send text messages. Your voice is really shaky and muffled and I'm having trouble following. Besides, you don't want to get caught by the people who control the needles."

The sedating medication continued to hinder Neal's ability to think, with a slight lag between reality and his actions. This strangely addled perception was making it difficult for him to concentrate on his environment while simultaneously trying to hold an lucid phone conversation. He'd clearly heard the door to his room bump open and casual conversation filter through from the hallway. However, he wasn't certain about the last part of Mozzie's message.

"Moz got-ta go." He quickly slid the phone closed, concealing it in his sling. Turning his head to face the wall, he closed his eyes feigning sleep.

Patrick entered the room and sat his plastic supply caddy onto the tray table, running his finger down the page as he reviewed his patient list. "_Neal Caffrey, IV site change and blood transfusion_." Stepping closer to the bed, the nurse folded the sheet back and propped his clipboard against Neal's hip.

Neal rolled his eyes, cracking them slightly open as he slowly exhaled a sigh of relief. His responses were slower than normal and he'd just barely wedged his hand back into the restraint as he felt the sheet skim over his bare arm.

"_Hmm, restraints_." Patrick scanned the external condition of his patient as he released Neal's wrist. "I can't believe you're a runner, must be a fighter." The nurse's slender hands gently turned the top of the patient ID band into view, comparing the names. "Well Mr. Caffrey, I might as well wake you now rather than having you move when I try inserting the new IV and then end up having to do this twice." He lightly tapped Neal's shoulder, "Mr. Caffrey, I need you to wake up now. Can you hear me?"

Mumbling, Neal licked his lips and slowly turned his head as he drew his eyes open bringing the tall dark haired nurse sporting a smoothed back ponytail and diamond earring into view. The kind green eyes staring down at him matched the reassuring warm smile that was outlined by a neatly trimmed goatee. "Good Morning, my name is Patrick and I am with the IV Team. Can you tell me your name?"

Raising his eyebrows, Neal drew his forehead into a quizzical frown. "Ahh, N-eal … Neal C-affrey."

"Relax, you're scheduled for a blood transfusion and triple checking identification is the hospital policy. Are you okay with needle sticks?" He picked up the restraint and lay it back down on the bed.

"Ah … not cr-crazy about em b-but I won hit you if that's what you're ask-ing." Neal glanced down at his arm as he felt the nurse peel back the padded foam tape and pull the thin plastic catheter free.

Appling pressure to Neal's forearm, he noticed his patient silently dropped his mouth open, drawing his eyebrows together. "Hey, I like your IV pump sentry." Patrick read the note taped to the FurKin's tag. "Peter the Porcupine, Patron Saint of Phlebotomists. Someone has a wry sense of humor."

Neal pulled his grimace into a crooked smile. "Th-at would be Lizbeth."

"Sorry, I know these buggers burn coming out and this foam tape pulls all the hair out by the root. After having newbies practice on me, I have a greater respect for the discomfort you feel." Patrick wagged his head, smiling as he taped a folded gauze square in place. "Do you want me to try to find veins in this arm or would you prefer me to try the right one?"

Surprised by the choice Neal quickly responded, "Ah … left. Veinsss?"

"Yes, I hate to say it but I can't run a transfusion in the same line as these medications." Patrick pushed Neal's sleeve back and tied the tourniquet around his upper arm. "You're going to feel a little pinch. There, that wasn't too bad was it?" Quickly assessing the remaining veins in Neal's left arm the RN shook his head. "Sorry to put both arms out of commission but I am afraid that I won't be able to easily get another one in over here."

Panic rapidly set in Neal's stomach as he tried to lift his arm and dislodge the cell phone from the sling. "Can you use my hand?"

Patrick released the waist restraint and lifted Neal's forearm carefully examining his hand. "I have to use a larger needle for the blood transfusion. You still have good veins left over here and I think I can use this one." He pulled the skin taught across the back of Neal's hand and pressed lightly against the protruding vein. "However, hand sticks do hurt more."

Neal's breathing hitched as he felt the phone drop from the back of sling. Riggling slightly to the right, the conman nudged the phone underneath him, hoping it was completely hidden from view. He paused slowly blinking his eyes and finally returning a vacant gaze back toward the nurse as he contemplated the next hurdle of retrieving the phone.

"Am I making you nervous Mr. Caffrey?" The nurse unhooked the sling and closely examined Neal's arm. "I can easily use this one. However, I wouldn't want to tighten these restraints directly against it. Do you mind if I ask why they're in place? You don't seem at all combative."

Neal's hand scavenged for the small pillow, tugging it out from beneath the clipboard and hugging it against his painful incisions. "P-pulled out some tubes … in my s-sleep …. Gu-ess I-I almost died."

"We could leave the restraints free for a couple of hours and just have Crystal check in on you more frequently."

"No, no jus use my h-hand. I-I kept them busy nuf last nigh-t."

Patrick wasn't lying about the pain of inserting the larger needle into his hand and it continued to throb even after he'd left the room. _"Who knew blood cells could be damaged by passing through too small a needle … probably Mozzie … but that isn't a question for now. No, no more morphine it's just muddling my thinking." _He continued to stare toward the doorway as he deftly slipped his hand free from the wrist restraint.

Despite the pain of moving, Neal inched himself off the cell phone that was digging into a severely bruised rib. The sling held his injured shoulder secure and he was certain that he didn't have the strength to roll onto his side without help. "_Think, Neal … Think. You've been in physically tighter spots than this before … but then again moving didn't normally send intense waves of excruciating pain through my whole body either."_

He exhaled and looked down at his aching hand, tracing the path of the IV tubing draped across his abdomen and drooping down onto the surface of the bed. Biting down on his lower lip, he forced himself as far onto his right side as he could tolerate without fainting from the stabbing pain and stuffed the small pillow under his back. He rested a few minutes and then continued looping the tubing through his fingers. Swinging the IV line out in front of the phone, he caught a corner of it and pulled. Slowly maneuvering it along the sheet's smooth surface until the phone shifted and the tubing slipped free from the rounded edge. Several more times he attempted to snag the phone with the IV line but it continued to slide over its' smooth exterior.

Exhaustion from holding himself partially onto his side was sweeping over him when he finally caught a corner of the phone and flipped it up on top of his restrained arm. Falling back against the pillows, tears pooled in his eyes as he held the phone firmly in his grasp.

Turning on the phone, he started to type:

_DH – There's a copy of V's favorite book The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe in my apartment. Track last week delivery, VFN-10 silane coupling agent - only one manufacturer. Shipped to a lab probably in the city. Requires a Class 100 clean room, filtered fume extraction system, a high-vac pack set-up and cryogenic freezer. MG will take V to that address. Cross-reference all shipments on list. Check import of liquid PR's and PFR's to the same address. Take bottle of BW Clear tracer in my paint box. You'll know what to do with it. Alert PB's men of location. –NC_

_Send e-mail dante haversham juncom_

Neal turned off the phone and slid it back into its hiding place. The rush of raw adrenaline was rapidly subsiding into unbearable pain and he anxiously patted down the sheets in search of relief from a desperately needed dose of morphine. When he felt the edge of the dislodged bottom sheet, he realized that the morphine controller had fallen onto the floor beneath the bed. He shuttered as beads of sweat formed on his brow. Pulling his thumb in tight against his palm, he slid his hand back into the restraint and pressed the call bell that dangled loose over the side of the bed.

Crystal poked her head into the room's entrance to see her patient drenched in sweat and trembling. "Mr. Caffrey, what's wrong?" Neal extended his wavering hand and pointed to the floor. The nurse dashed across the room, fearing he was having a hemolytic reaction to the transfusion. Picking up the controller, she depressed the button for him and felt his forehead. He didn't feel feverish to the touch. "Just give it a minute and I'll give you another dose."

She raised the head of the bed and reached across his chest placing a calming hand on his shoulder. "Mr. Caffrey, look at me. Are you having any difficulty breathing?"

Neal nodded his head no, squeezing his eyes tightly closed and biting down again on his lower lip. "No jus pain."

Crystal gently cupped his chin in her hand and turned his face up toward her. There was a trace of dried blood around his lips and fresh blood coated his teeth. "Try to breathe slowly through your mouth. That's good, Neal." She dispensed another dose for him. "You shouldn't have waited to call, if you were in this much pain."

Taking a face cloth from the nightstand, she gently patted his face dry and softly smoothing his damp bangs back. "I think you may have bitten the inside of your lip. Let me take a look."

Carefully rolling down his lower lip with her gloved hand, she examined the shallow incised wound. "It doesn't look too bad." She rolled up a sterile square of gauze and tucked it in between his lower lip and his teeth. "Let's see if that stops it." Pouring some water into a cup, she held the straw to his lips. "This will help get that nasty taste out of your mouth … I think I'll just stay here for a little while. Would that be alright?" Crystal released the restraint and held Neal's hand, carefully watching him for additional signs of a transfusion reaction.

After two additional doses of morphine, his trembling subsided and Neal seemed visibly more comfortable. Crystal squeezed his hand again, relieved that it was more than likely just an anxiety attack brought on from intense pain and probably stress.

"Do you think you could eat a little at lunch time? Dr. Turner ordered you semi-soft meals today."

Neal nodded no and allowed his head to drift to the side. "Not hun-gry."

"Mr. Caffrey, you need to start building up some strength. I think if you try to eat even a little today, Dr. Turner can upgrade your condition. She wants to get your leg pinned so you can start getting out of bed. That would mean you can lose some of these irritating tubes and monitors."

"May-be to-morrow."

Crystal smiled, "Oh come on now. I have a nice student nurse all picked out to help you. Just try not to look too eager. Okay?"

Instinctively Neal's eyes turned on the charm and he momentarily attempted to give Crystal his best boyish sweet smile.

She patted his hand and left the room_. "Even with a wad of gauze in his mouth, it's hard to resist that smile."_

It was already noon when Mozzie excused himself to go get a cup of coffee, leaving Violet with Jones and Cruz. He hadn't actually lied; he probably would have a cup of June's fresh Italian roast while completing his research at Neal's apartment. And with any luck, June would feed him some of his favorite cucumber and salmon sandwiches with pineapple salsa. He felt his stomach growl at the delicious prospects.

The fifteen-minute cab ride gave Haversham additional time to review Neal's message. First, he would locate the copy of Violet's formulation and then start tracing the chemical shipments. Mozzie pulled out his phone and sent Neal a quick message.

_NC- On my way for cappuccino in the clouds. Let you know V's destination soon. –DH_

June met Mozzie at the door and folded her arms around him in a friendly embrace. "Mr. Haversham, please tell me that this is a good news visit. How is Neal doing? Elizabeth seemed so concerned when she called this morning. She said that Neal gave them all quite a scare last night and that they were asked to leave him rest today."

Mozzie nodded fully aware of the fact that Mrs. Suit had left out some important details surrounding the situation. However, June was sufficiently worried about Neal without telling her that he almost died and that Violet was about to be plunged into the middle of an inadequately planned FBI operation.

"June, you know Neal … he'll be fine. He has those nurses wrapped around his little finger. He's all blue eyes and smiles." Mozzie held up his pinky and batted his eyes. "They leave the room needing oxygen more than he does. If it weren't for the needles and other uncomfortable things inserted into orifices I'd rather not mention, we'd never get him to leave that place."

Taking Mozzie's coat and hat in hand, June led him up the stairs to Neal's apartment. "Legally speaking, it might be better if you stayed downstairs while I locate a few things Neal requested."

June nodded, understanding Mozzie's precautionary statement. She knew Neal was a convicted felon and on occasion had the need to operate in the grayer ill-defined areas surrounding the law. However, she also trusted that his moral convictions and intentions were honorable so, she went to check on lunch leaving Mozzie alone to ferret out Neal's hidden cache.

The background research was essential to pull off this plan and there wasn't a lot of time left to verify the facts. Mozzie was fighting the clock and Neal's cryptic message left room for some misinterpretation. He turned and headed for the bookcase skimming the titles for C.S. Lewis when he abruptly stopped at the end of the first row. Staring across into Neal's bedroom, the answer to the clue became clear. The formulation was hidden in the back of the wardrobe.

Reaching up to the clothing rod, Mozzie parted the collection of suits and leaned in tapping lightly against the back panel of the wardrobe. Near the bottom of the last panel, the tone of his tapping changed and he pulled out his pocketknife separating the decorative trim strip from plywood veneer, exposing a thin stack of manila envelopes. Flipping through them, Mozzie pulled out one labeled Dr. Nesbit and returned the others to their hiding place. He reached up shifting the suits back into place, taking extra care to allow room between each garment. Neal was such a fussbudget when it came to his clothing and the last thing Mozzie wanted to deal with was taking heat for creasing a Devore.

Mozzie pulled out a chair at the dining table and reviewed the document as he waited for the laptop to boot. "Neal, I keep telling you, you've got to go Linux … open source code." He typed some code into the command line. VFN-10 Silane coupling agent was the Rosetta Stone for unraveling the location of the lab. A couple of hours of hacking SAP systems, cross-referencing other ingredients, one carefully contrived sob story about his lost shipment and he had the location. All shipments were made to Maria Brenham, a graduate student at Columbia University.

Another quick phone call and Alex confirmed that there was more than a little chatter going on about six newly discovered works by Maurice de Vlaminck, a French born painter known for his contributions to Fauvism. She confidently assured Mozzie that if Neal had these paintings and physically wasn't up to fencing them himself, that she would be more than willing to lend a hand ... for a price.

Mozzie opened Neal's paint box and removed the small amber opaque bottle, placing it in his pocket. It looked like Reid Halloran was going back to college, starting with a night class ... and this new student had more than a few surprises in store for Mr. Glassenger and his associates.

**Author's Note: Thank you to all the readers that are following my story Forged Friendships. Your reviews are greatly appreciated. Please take time to let me know what you think of the latest chapter. I haven't heard from many of the international readers. I would love to get your opinions too. Thank You So Much - SK Musings  
**


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: White Collar and the characters borrowed for this story are the creative property of Jeff Eastin. This story was written and shared solely for the enjoyment of other White Collar fans. No copyright infringement is intended.

Forged Friendships

Chapter – 11 Hearts Desires

Neal exhaled with a soft whimper, turning his head in his sleep as Crystal disconnected the tubing used for the transfusion and disposed of it in the red bio-hazard container. Despite the administration of 2-units of whole blood, his complexion was still terribly pale in contrast to the mottled purple bruise blooming across his cheek and she decided it would be beneficial to allow him to continue sleeping. There was no medical necessity for the immediate removal of the IV catheter and she knew Vanessa would stand behind her decision if the task waited until the next shift started.

Pulling Mr. Caffrey's nutritional status card from the stack, Crystal placed it on the tray table while she scavenged in her pocket for a pen. Dr. Turner had highlighted the top of the card with specific orders to push for an increase in his caloric intake. So far, Neal had refused to drink any of the liquid nutritional supplements, saying that the artificial flavors made him nauseous. Turning the tray around, Crystal lifted the plastic lid that was partially covering the bowl of congealed cream of chicken soup. Wrinkling her nose in obvious displeasure at its' unappetizing appearance, she regretfully noted that the food was barely touched. Placing the lid back over the soup, she shook her head in frustration. She felt certain that Molly, the pretty student nurse would be able to coax him into eating more than just a few scant spoons of soup.

The nurse jotted a quick note on the card and stuffed the deck back into her lab coat pocket, as she silently watched her restless patient stirring in his sleep. Mr. Caffrey's expressive arched brows, drawn tightly together, his eyes rapidly tracing back and forth under closed lids. Fitfully tossing his head to one side, an incoherent mumble escaped his pale lips. Crystal reached to hold his hand but something about Neal's gentle demeanor again tugged at her emotions and she found herself lightly stroking the back of her fingers down his cheek and along the edge of his jaw line. He was already too thin and she knew the next step would be an unpleasant feeding tube, if he continued in this pattern. When he awoke, she was determined to make sure he ate something more, even if she had to go out and pick up his favorite take-out.

"Mr. Caffrey, please try to eat just a little so my report doesn't have to sound like you're completely refusing food." Crystal whispered as she straightened the twisted sheets, loosely tucking them around his slim body. "I'll be back in a little while."

Neal again tossed his head, burying it deeper into the folds of the pillow, hushed sobbing sounds quickly fading into the padded crevices._ "So sorry, Caffrey." These few pitiless and vindictive words reverberated through the cavernous hallway as Neal was forcibly whisked towards the open doorway. His stomach knotting tighter with each advancing step as frantic turbulent thoughts stampeded through his mind. Extending his arms fully out to the sides, he seized the edge of the smooth metal door frame and leaned back on his heels with all his weight in a last futile attempt to resist any forward movements. "Give it up Caffrey. Don't you want to visit her?" The voice smacked with disdain as Neal struggled to maintain his stance. _

_All the reserved air rushed from his lungs as a sharp blow landed square between his shoulder blades. A pair of brusque forceful hands grasped his upper arms and shoved him through the entry, releasing him to collapse into a heap on the cold tile floor. His first deep breath was of the acrid sweet smell of strong hospital strength disinfectant. He gasped, working to pull himself up with the aid of a stainless steel table leg, his breathing erupting into violent coughing spasms. Sprawling prone over the edge of the empty autopsy table, he stared with horror at the brightly illuminated wall of compartmentalized refrigeration lockers. Each door tightly closed hiding their contents from view. _

_His eyes flashed with dread as an unfamiliar hand reached up into the light, opening the latch of a single brushed metal door. Terror pierced at his heart, as the hands pulled the heavy tray from its resting place, exposing a black zippered bag. Glassenger turned to watch Neal's expression, his brazen face cast with a merciless grin as he gripped the bag's fastener with cruel anticipation. "Caffrey, since you're the closest thing Violet had left to family, a private viewing seemed most appropriate. I'm sure you wanted a chance for a proper good-bye."_

Neal bolted awake, alone, breathless and momentarily disoriented, gripping the fabric of the sheet tightly between tense white knuckled fingers. "_Only a dream … get a grip Neal … it was only a dream_." His body shuddered with the fear that something had again triggered the endless string of nightmares that for months had chased his unconscious thoughts. He pulled his hand free of the restraint and grasped his forehead, feeling his pulse throbbing against his temples. _"What time was it? Had Mozzie found the location?"_ Neal held his breath and counted slowly, holding the phone in the palm of his shaking hand as he nervously retrieved the two missed messages.

_NC- Our buddy, Reid Hallorand is taking a night class at Columbia. Graduate student in charge. Lab storage has a clean room view. Ventilation system adjusted and UV tracer added in a miscible blend. MG owns original. Alex agreed to jump the fence for you on this one. Relax all eyes to be on V. –DH_

_NC- And for god sake, breathe … It will all be over soon. –DH_

Neal opened the attachment and stared at the photo of Violet that Mozzie had taken. He recognized the warm inviting setting as the place he called home. Violet and the little pug were snuggled together sleeping in June's over-stuffed chair beside the crackling fireplace. For a second, he imagined himself seated on the floor, his head supported in her lap, the fire slowly turning to embers as they drifted off together. _Was this just another idyllic dream … like the white picket fence? Was Mozzie right … that this wasn't a life available to guys like them?_ Neal knew that his longtime friend had intended the image to set his mind at ease but instead it only acted as a catalyst to intensify his feelings of apprehension and guilt.

The emotional storm brewing quickly shifted guilt to anger as he internally chastised himself for foolishly falling into Glassenger's trap, ending up incapacitated, unable to protect her. Neal knew Mozzie had followed his lead and was in place to observe the meeting and intervene if necessary. Now, he just had to believe that Peter would entrust his reputation in support of the plan that Mozzie had set into motion.

His attention rapidly dissolved back to the image of Violet's face, resting his fingers delicately against the screen, he slowly traced the outline of her cheek, imagining the feel of her smooth hair as it slipped freely through his fingers. It seemed like an eternity since he'd held her in his arms and tenderly kissed her good night, confessing his love to her sleeping countenance. If he had only stayed the night, this could have ended so differently.

Neal glanced upward, his daydream abruptly ending as a woman's hand reached across the bedside railing into his periphery and anxiously tapped the top edge of the phone. His gaze met with Crystal's in a stunned reaction, mouth-dropping open as he gradually lowered his hands into his lap, loosening his grip. Wide bands of color washed across Neal's pallid cheeks as his naturally polished veneer splintered into a stammering confession. "Ah… Crystal … i-it's not what you think. W-well act-ually it probably is what you th-ink. I … planned to give it back to-morrow."

The nurse lifted her phone out of Neal's hands and looked at the smudged screen. Absentmindedly wiping the smear away with the edge of her lab-coat, she hesitantly asked, "Is this your friend? The one you've been so concerned about."

She carefully studied her patient's face, his unchecked emotions broadcasting that he was terrified of losing this woman. The events from the past four days finally fell into order for Crystal and she felt awful that she hadn't recognized it sooner. Mr. Caffrey had been brutally beaten, nearly died twice, tortured himself by going without pain medication, fought with strength he couldn't spare and now stolen her phone, all mounting into a consolidated effort to save his friend, a woman he must love.

Neal lowered his gaze, his dark lashes fanning out over the deep circles that framed his usually animated vivid blue eyes. Staring down at his empty grasp, he nodded his head acknowledging both his defeat and fear. "Her name is Violet and our relation-ship has al-ways been com-plex. Be-cause of me she's in danger." He struggled to continue, clenching his hands in frustration. "Look at me … my ac-tions were … sloppy and now I'm un-able to protect her … and it's becoming in-creasingly apparent that if my friends don't succeed to-night … I may never see her again." His voice trailing away, softer with each breathy word, "Cry-stal, I … I love her deeply … but I've never told her."

The by-the-rules professional nurse couldn't allow this kind gentle man to continue suffering alone. He needed a compassionate caring touch, not just medical procedures in a sterile environment. She smiled at Neal as she removed her lab coat and badge, draping it across the end of the bed, giving a quick glance down at her watch. "I'm due for a break. Would you like someone to talk to?"

Lowering the protective railing, his nurse carefully sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out, offering him the comfort of her arms. Neal sat motionless, the tension in his face intensifying as the contractions of the muscles rippled along his angular jaw line. Crystal moved closer gathering him into her arms and lightly running her palm over his warm back. Neal swallowed hard against the tightness migrating down his neck, leaning forward he rested his head on her shoulder. "Mr. Caffrey … Neal, I feel certain Violet already knows your feelings for her. You may have been an accomplished conman but in this case, your eyes tell on you."

She stroked his hair softly, avoiding the long line of sutures that closed the massive gash in the back of his head. "Are you in pain? There isn't any reason for you to be uncomfortable."

Her question went unanswered as he allowed himself to lean heavily against her shoulder. Reaching down, she helped him dispense a dose of morphine, her free hand coming to rest at the nape of his neck, her fingertips lightly massaging downward in soothing repetitive motion. "You've been through enough. Agent Burke and his wife were very concerned about you this morning … and I could tell your partner was sorry the two of you had words. He assured me that he would take care of your friend … and I got the distinct feeling that the word of Peter Burke is never given lightly."

She again stroked her fingertips through his hair, noticing the warm sensation of moisture seeping through the fabric of her scrub top as Neal broke down in a labored pattern of hushed sobs. She held him close, quietly comforting him, his fragile body now lax in her arms.

Resting on her shoulder at the edge of slumber, Neal instinctively nuzzled closer to her neck, his eyes drifted open and closed. For the first time in days, he was in a comfortable warm easy place devoid of pain. Crystal rocked back and forth slightly as she patted his back. "Shhh my dear man. It's going to be okay, Neal. You just concentrate on getting better and trust your partner and friends. Just you rest now. Shhh."

Languidly shifting back to consciousness, Neal pulled back, apologetically smoothing down the damp wrinkled fabric pressed to the nurse's neck. Crystal gently clasped her finger around his nervous hand, temporarily calming his tremors. "This, this will dry … it's okay Neal … sometimes you just need to let it out." She carefully pressed a tissue into the corners of his red swollen eyes... "Are you feeling any better?" She stood, fluffing up the pillow and holding it in place as she slowly reclined him back in a more comfortable position. "Are you going to be okay alone?"

Neal nodded, a tremor radiating outward and down his fingers, quickly masked by a shushing wave toward the door. "Y-you're right a-bout Peter Burke." He rolled his lower lip under, sucking in a quick breath as he considered the stress Peter must be experiencing.

"Are you certain? I can stay as long as you'd like."

"I-I'm fine …really. You have other pat-ients."

Leaning against the edge of the bed, Crystal tilted his head to the side until his temple rested against her forehead. "If you need anything and that includes just talking, please use your call-bell." Taking the phone from her pocket, she placed it back into Neal's unsteady hands, folding his long fingers around its edges with a reassuring squeeze. "Here … do what you need to keep her safe."

Mozzie trudged across the parking lot, wispy white snow devils stirring around his feet like little ghosts rising from the black pavement. He reached and pulled the collar of his coat up to shield the back of his neck from the windy assault. Twisting his shoulders from side to side, he shifted the heavy backpack to a fresh spot. His back ached under the uneven load that was sinking into the padded layers of his winter coat. "Neal, I am getting to old for these physically demanding jobs, I am rapidly becoming more suited to the sedentary and cerebral. Holding up those weighty serving trays at the Italian Consulate nearly drove me to a chiropractor last year." Mumbling to himself, he dropped the pack with a solid thud onto the metal slatted park bench. Turning to scan the area, he pulled his phone out and snapped photos from all directions, forwarding them on to Neal along with the lab layout. A second pair of trained eyes couldn't hurt with what was at stake tonight.

Tugging his coattail underneath him and wrapping his scarf one more twist around his upturned collar, Mozzie braced himself for contact with the icy metal of the park bench. "Global warming, my buttocks. Not feeling the warmth of impending doom here." The chill penetrated through the back of his thin trousers sending protesting shivers down his legs as he bumped a Camel Straight from the pack and dialed the Suit's number.

Nothing guaranteed privacy like a frigid metal park bench and cloud of noxious cigarette smoke. He held up the reflective face of the phone and scanned behind him. There were only a few cars in the parking lot. Most of the students were in warm libraries preparing for final exams and those that ventured out were walking with a purposeful pace not lingering in the open areas.

Peter sat hunched over in the confined space of the surveillance van, flipping through his operational notes one last time. His concerns weighing heavily on his conscious, knowing that this plan was tenuous at best. Violet wasn't a trained agent and Glassenger and his men had a history of violence. Neal's current condition was a vivid example of just how brutal these men could be when they wanted something. His only hope was that she could hold it together long enough for his men to locate the meeting place and get her to safety.

Looking down, Peter again nudged the service dog's muzzle away from his leg as she panted heavily, contentedly whacking his chair with her thick tail. "Jones, please move the dog. He's in desperate need of a breath mint."

Jones perked up, chucking at Peter's obvious displeasure as the large dog flopped her head sideways on top of Peter's thigh, licking at his hand. "HER name is Ruby." He said, reaching for the service dog's lead to direct the gray and black shepherd to the back of the van. "Hey, pretty girl, don't listen to Agent Burke. He just hasn't had his Italian roast today." Vigorously rubbing behind her head, he slid his hands down the smooth fur of her ears, leaning forward he allowed her to lick his face.

"Jones, speaking of coffee." Peter extended his arm, holding his empty travel mug out into the isle way as he reached for the vibrating phone tucked in his inside jacket pocket. "Elizabeth now is not good." He grumbled under his breath as his slid the phone open. "Honey can this wait?"

"Suit we're not that close." Mozzie scoffed as he crossed his legs and took a long drag off the cigarette, watching the smoke cloud billow upward into the crisp clear night.

"How did you … no … why do you have this number?"

"Suit, I have the location for the meeting. I just sent you the address and photos of the building's exterior and the lab layout. Check your other phone." Mozzie stretched arching his back to gain a quick glance behind him. "I don't trust one line of communication for sensitive information. You never know who could be listening."

Peter pulled out his Blackberry and retrieved the message waiting on his FBI issued phone. "Haversham we have to talk when this is over. The Bureau frowns on hacking and other disreputable forms of obtaining Intel." Scrolling down to the meeting address now visible on the computer monitor, Peter exhaled and ran his hand back through his hair. "Columbia … dammit their smart. They know it will be a hard target to raid on short notice with students in the building." Peter propped his head up against his clenched fist. "Haversham, you're sure about this location? Street chatter isn't going to cut it tonight."

"There are two ways of meeting difficulties: You alter the difficulties or you alter yourself to meet them. Relax; this is a first-hand account. "

"How did you get into a secure campus building?" Peter paused sucking in air through his clenched teeth. "I don't want to know how you gained access to this lab … do I?"

Mozzie shifted away from the back of the cold bench and coughed into the phone. "A close friend of Neal's, Reid Hallorand likes to audit classes at night. After all, a mind is a terrible thing to waste."

"So let me get this straight, Neal's friend has eyes in the lab."

"I can only confirm that he too is a mutual friend of Violet's and loves to do a little research of his own. Tell Violet to be sure to clean the FTIR lens really well with ALCOHOL."

"Alcohol?" Peter exhaled as he attempted to stretch out his cramped legs, shaking his head in disbelief.

"She'll get the message. Just get your men to this parking lot. MG owns the original so he isn't about to show his face. Vi is going to have to make a batch of the coating and running the tests. To end this, you're going to have to follow his men back to the source. After all when lightning strikes, the mouse is sometimes burned with the farm_, _Phyllis Bottome … I will keep you apprised when to make a move."

"Haversham … Haversham … Mozzie? … He hung up on me!" Peter gave the phone an exasperated flick, tossing it alongside the keyboard. "Unbelievable!" Peter stood leaning heavily on the counter, staring down at a map of Columbia campus. "Jones, it's time to go. I can't even begin to fathom that I am saying this but Mozzie needs you to pass a message to Violet. Tell her to clean the FTIR lens really well with alcohol. Whatever the heck that means."

Jones' eyes widened as he turned to face Peter. "Mozzie? Neal's little buddy with the surplus spy gadgets?"

"One and the same." Peter scrubbed his hand down over his face. "Neal … your trust better be well founded … because I'm not sure how I am going to explain taking my lead from a street smart myopic conspiracy theorist."


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: White Collar and the characters borrowed for this story are the creative property of Jeff Eastin. This story was written and shared solely for the enjoyment of other White Collar fans. No copyright infringement is intended.

Forged Friendships

Chapter – 12 Lapsed Judgment

Violet flipped a dressing soaked spinach leaf to the other side of the platter, as she nervously stirred the glass of green tea with a straw. The first booth behind the take-out counter gave her a direct view of Cruz, which meant her assailant would be captured on camera. It was only mildly reassuring. She knew that this was dangerous business and that Neal had nearly died, probably in her defense. If only he was the one in the back booth pretending to read Grisham.

Once again, the door opened jingling the string of bells dangling from the hook on the back of the deli's door and once again, her heart leapt into her throat. From behind, she could hear Agent Jones order a ham and cheese on rye with Dijon. She took a drink trying to wash down the previous bite of grilled chicken. The time was getting close and all she wanted to do was crawl under the table amongst the crumbs and hide. There wasn't any courage involved in tonight's plan, only her unrelenting trepidation about what she was expected to do. In truth, Violet was barely holding it together.

Clinton turned carrying a large drink and sandwich with the service dog at the lead. Taking six paces forward he allowed his foot to catch in the instrument's case strap that was draping onto the floor. Tumbling forward, the plastic cup hit the floor splashing cola onto Violet's pant leg. Ruby immediately stopped when Clinton dropped the lead, turning to face her master.

"Oh my god, sir are you alright? I am so sorry. My case must have tripped you." Violet stood helping Clinton get his feet back under him, handing him the dog's lead. Turning, she quickly grabbed a stack of napkins and began to blot at the agent's sopping wet shirt.

Clinton removed the napkins from Violet's hand and leaned down, whispering in her ear. "Mozzie knows the meeting location. He wants you to clean the FTIR lenses really well with alcohol."

"Oh okay … are you sure that you are alright? Please let me get you another meal … oh... oh … Don't step that direction there's ice on the floor. Please, be careful walking. Are you sure I can't help you?" Violet's startled reaction shifted her focus and she failed to notice her cell phone vibrating against the table.

Clinton recognizing the disoriented look in her eyes leaned closer and whispered. "Mozz might be calling about the al-co-hol to clean the lens."

Violet fumbled to pick up the phone. "Ah … right. He'll be there and expect it to be clean."

Clinton nodded in acknowledgment and turned as Cruz approached the two. "Kevin sweetie, here take my hand. I got us a booth all the way in the back." Gently grasping the agent's hand, she pulled up on the dogs lead. "Miss, thank you for helping my friend. He's just learning to rely on the dog's directions. It's only the second time out on his own." She turned, slipping her arm around her partner's waist. "Let's get you back to our booth and away from this wet mess. Step to the left a little."

The two agents awkwardly squeezed through the isle with the dog leading the way. Cruz slowly turned her head and looked back at Violet as she spoke into Clinton's ear. "What was that all about? I thought the dog was just to get assailant's scent."

As they reached the booth, she placed her partners hand on the table and guided him onto the bench as Ruby settled in at his feet. Leaning forward he smiled lovingly in Cruz's general direction. "Neal's twitchy little bald friend had a message for Violet. Believe me, Peter is taking a big risk and he isn't happy about it. Neal somehow has him directly involved in the operation."

"I'm sure Peter isn't happy with Neal taking any more risks but he must trust..." Cruz stop mid-sentence as she watched Violet close her phone and exit the booth heading toward the kitchen door. Tenderly grasping her partner's hands, she leaned forward. "Jones stay put. We can't risk blowing our cover just yet."

Lauren slid across the vinyl bench and stepped into the open isle way. "Violet just headed toward the kitchen entrance."

Clinton shifted in his seat, adjusting his vantage point toward the counter area. "Maybe she just went to get a mop. She seemed pretty rattled when I fell."

Lauren shook her head as she quickened her pace toward the crowded counter area. "I don't think so; she took her jacket and the case with her."

Aggressively pushing her way through the patrons at the counter, she darted for the kitchen. Swinging the saloon style doors violently back against the tile wall, the agent flashed her badge to the startled kitchen staff. Maintaining a full stride forward, she dodged a baker carrying a large metal tray filled with freshly baked bread. "FBI, which way did the other woman go?" The stunned baker pointed toward the open screen door leading into the alley.

"Dammit, what the hell does she think she's doing? Burke, you getting this? Violet just answered a call and exited the rear of the deli." Cruz quickly scanned the area, looking for any indication of the direction Violet had taken. "Do we have anyone back here or watching the alleys? She's gone … they had to be waiting for her … yes, she has the case with her."

Peter slammed his fist against the back of the surveillance van's door, raising an immediate welt across his knuckles. "Why should I be surprised that Caffrey's friends are equally as defiant as he is when it comes to following a simple plan? She's on her own for now. _If something happens to her, Neal will never forgive me. _Cruz, Jones, get back here now. We're headed for Columbia's campus_."_

Violet attempted to rub her temple with the back of her secured hands. There was a sizable lump developing on her forehead and her hands were tingling with numbness. In the dim light, her eyes slowly started to adjust revealing the inside of a compressed gas delivery truck. A row of gas cylinders and large rolling liquid nitrogen dewars rattled and clanked in the rack lining the opposite wall. The truck was freezing cold with open slats for cross-ventilation, a safety precaution with the pressurized vessels.

Her coat was gone and she found herself dressed in a light t-shirt, over-sized sweatpants and flip-flops. They must have suspected that she was wearing a wire or that the clothing had special devices built in. Her thoughts shifted to the modifications the FBI made to her test instrument and she prayed they hadn't been detected.

Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes trying to concentrate on how to handle the current predicament. She knew her lapse in judgment had left her on own, at least until she got to the lab and even then she was relying on Mozzie. A man she barely knew aside from his relationship with Neal and even that was sketchy. But she trusted Neal and Neal trusted Mozzie, now she would too. Slowly opening her eyes, she sensed that someone else was near but she wasn't prepared for that pair of dark green eyes, the eyes of Marcus's identical twin brother Matthew Glassenger. The deep-set eyes were all too familiar but surrounded by a face that was foreign to her, heavily marked with scars. She swallowed hard, choking back the wave of nausea, her pounding head swaying sharply to the left with the movement of the truck.

Kneeling down on one knee, Matthew reached out forcibly grasping Violet's slight frame. His lips curled into a wry smile as he reveled with enjoyment at her terrified reaction to his strong advances. Releasing his lingering grip on her shoulders, he softly caressed her cheek, exhaling the odor of stale cigar smoke into her face. "So, is this how Neal-ee-boy touches you?"

Violet winced at the odor and he quickly slapped her cheeks red. "Such a fine lady. Do I offend? It wasn't wise of you to involve Neal's friends from the FBI. His puppet-master, Burke must think we're idiots to have not spotted the two agents at the deli. It's a shame that Neal will have to pay again, for his meddling. You know I wanted to kill him last Friday. I actually think we came pretty damn close."

Violet shrugged backward against the metal rails mounted at the base of the truck's wall. She could feel the warm tears start to roll down her cheek, betraying her emotions. Her strained voice cracking as she spoke. "Please let Neal alone. I will do whatever you want. Just don't hurt him."

Glassenger leaned in close, pressing his hand against her chest. "You mean like this?"

Violet gasped as Matthew held a creased photo of Neal's battered face up in her view. "Not quite so pretty now."

He smoothed out the photo as he admired his work. His lips pulled tight in a satisfied grin as he displayed the photo once again, allowing Violet to fully absorb the acts of blatant brutality. "You just remember this when you feel the urge to betray us tonight."

He stood, grabbing a canvas cover from the corner of the truck bed and tossed it over Violet's torso. "Believe me; this isn't for your comfort. Just can't risk having Neal's fragile little Violet die on us. Sure, hope that thing we tried to pull out of your arm wasn't too important. Bled like crazy … probably ruined my shirt."

Sliding the window open behind the driver, he checked the GPS screen. "Call Marcus and let him know that the doctor is back with us. We should be there in about 25 minutes."

Matthew stepped back through the isle way between the rows of compressed gas cylinders, stopping to open a concealed side panel in one of the large liquid nitrogen tanks. "Well my dear, your chariot awaits."

Grabbing Violet and pulling her forward onto her knees, he checked the restraints before stuffing her into the hollowed out rolling metal tank. "You make any sounds at all and I'll personally make sure Neal suffers a painful relapse."

Violet peered out of the dark opening, her entire body shaking and tears now streaking down her face, steaming her glasses. A final piece of duct tape is stretched taut across her mouth as Glassenger flashes the photo of Neal in her face one last time. "Remember, we can inflict a whole lot of pain without actually killing him. If need be, I'll make sure he is unrecognizable in the next photo." Reaching inside the small compartment, Matthew grabbed Violet's chin, patting her cheek roughly before securing the panel back in place. "Now be a good little egg-head and maybe we'll let Neal and your Uncle live."

Neal cradled the cell phone loosely in his palm literally watching the minutes pass before his eyes. He knew the operation had started. Despite having studied Mozzie's photos of the lab layout and providing direct strategic input, he still felt utterly powerless. The success of the plan continued to rest on Violet's ability to hold it together and follow the clues that Mozzie had planted.

Scrolling through the menus, he opened the photo once more. "Violet, please be safe." He silently mouthed as he gazed at the small woman nestled snuggly in the overstuffed chair. "Peter, you have to bring her back to me."

He closed his eyes tightly against the brimming cushion of water, a thin stream of tears escaping the corner of his eye, trickling down his cheek to follow a path along his nose. Using the back of his sore hand as a make shift tissue, he spread the moisture across his bruised cheek. The internal tremors were mounting again, pressing on the edge of his weakened emotional barriers. Closing the phone, he turned his head to face the blank green wall, trying to concentrate on slowing the rate of his breathing.

Neal could hear familiar cheerful voices chattering in the hallway accompanied by the approaching sound of rattling paper bags. He again shut his eyes, forcing himself back into the familiar Caffrey veneer, now a thinly veiled illusion at best. He exhaled slowly and reclined his head back against the pillow. _"I'm fine … just fine."_

The clicking of the women's heels striking the polished tile floor grew louder as they passed the nurse's station outside his room. "His bed is just inside this door. I don't think he'll be expecting anyone after this morning." El pointed toward the open doorway, allowing June to enter first.

"Oh, the poor dear is asleep." June placed her shopping bags on the floor beside the bed and gently wrapped her warm hand around Neal's slender fingers. "Elizabeth, he feels chilly to me." She reached over and smoothed her hand back over his unruly waves, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Elizabeth stepped to the other side of the bed and tentatively skimmed her fingers along the back of his immobilized hand. "Oh, he is cool." Her fingers stopped, curling around his pinky. "Those IV sites in his hand look so painful. Just look at the puffy lump it left on his other hand." El bent down, pulling an afghan from one of the shopping bags. "This should help warm him up." She nodded to June as she started to unfold the charcoal gray, cable knit throw.

"El this is lovely. Did you make this?" June unfolded her half of the cover to extend over his feet. "Oh my, his toes are like ice. You wouldn't happen to have a pair of matching socks in that bag?"

"Actually, I do. Well, they don't match the throw but they should keep his feet toasty warm. I made a special toe cozy this afternoon that should fit over the end of that soft cast." She handed them across the bed to June and turned to tuck the soft knit material in under his chin. A slight smile emerged on Neal's lips as June pulled the cozy over his bare toes.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the young man playing possum and reached up tickling the corner of his mouth with the tip of her finger. "Neal Caffrey, are you awake?"

"Mmmp … hmmm"

Neal cracked one eye open and quickly closed it as a sheepish grin grew on his face. "T-toe cozy? Did yu really jus say toe c-cozy?"

"Yes, I did mister and your icy toes are going to thank me later." El softly patted his cheek as Neal pushed his elbow down into the mattress and attempted to shift into a more comfortable position. A grimace quickly drew his lips into a tight line as waves of intense pain rippled through his abdomen.

"Oh Neal" June winced as she watched the color drain from the young man's face. "Let us help you. What do you need?"

Remaining remarkably composed, Elizabeth tenderly stroked his deeply furrowed brow, combing her fingers back through his hair "June, he needs to use that button that's tied onto the railing. It gives him a dose of morphine."

His partner's wife continued to comfort him, lightly stroking her thumb up between his tightly drawn brows. "Neal look over at June, sweetie. You need an extra dose of the pain medicine. I know it hurts but just try to relax and breathe slowly through your mouth."

June handed the button to Neal and watched with relief as the color gradually returned to his face. "Neal dear, are you still having so much pain?" His self-appointed Mom carefully lifted his hand and held it to her cheek, tears moistening her eyes. "Elizabeth, do you think we should call for the nurse?"

Neal palmed the PCA button in his immobilized hand, pressing it twice. He could feel his composure slipping in reaction to the open emotional display of the two women hovering over him. "J-June … Liz-beth … I-I'm fine. It's eas-ing up … really."

Neal pointed toward the bedside tray in an attempt to divert their attention away from his outward response to the physical pain. "W-were yu two sh-shop-ing? M-mohan's … for me?"

"I don't know? June what do you think, after he made fun of the toe cozy?"

"Whisch I didn't get a c-chance to say … waz a th-thought-ful n lovely gift." He quipped with a slight slur, embellishing the statement with a coy smile and droopy-eyed gaze directed at El.

"Stop, stop … I give … not that look." She chuckled, opening the bag and holding it for Neal to see the soft blue charmeuse robe. "It's from June."

"You know, for when you start to get up out of bed." June motioned toward her back. "I wanted you to be able to maintain a modicum of dignity." She pulled the top of the soft garment out from the bag and onto his lap. "And the blue color will accent your eyes nicely … not that they need any help garnering attention."

"T-thank yu, June." Neal started to reach up as June leaned in for a cautious hug through the maze of tubing and wires.

"You are most welcome. You had us all so worried." She brushed back a few stray bangs and pressed her lips to his forehead. "Even Samantha got you a little gift with Mozzie's help and maybe your credit card." June bent down lifting a blue-eyed Vermont teddy bear dressed in a plaid shawl collared robe and gray fedora from the remaining bag on the floor. "She even had them put a cast on his leg and oh, there's a little crutch and pillow too. She wanted you to have a furry friend to keep you company at night."

Neal smiled at the thoughtful and resourceful gift from the child and gave it a trial cuddle. "S-so sweet of her to th-think of me. I like his style … th-thank her …pl-ease."

El rolled the tray table up in front of Neal and started to unload her last bag.

"Th-there's m-more? You're both too kind to me." He whispered, placing his hand over his heart and closing his eyes against the stirring emotions.

"Are you hungry? The nurse that called said that you aren't eating. We brought you some homemade soup, chicken dumpling and creamy potato. It's your choice or you can skip right to dessert, baked scalloped apples."

"Liz-beth, yu shouldn't have fussed … am jus not hun-gry."

"Neal, but these are your favorites … well at least within your current dietary restrictions. Your doctor is very concerned about your continued weight loss. You just aren't going to have the strength to recover if you don't start to eat."

"May-be tomorrow"

"No Neal, waiting until tomorrow isn't an option at this point. You don't want them to put a tube in your nose to feed you." She cupped his chin, gently lifting his gaze to meet hers. "You've refused to drink the nutrition shakes and you haven't eaten more than a few bites. Your weight was too low when you were admitted and it continues to drop."

June placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. She could easily feel his prominent collarbone and shoulder structure through the thin hospital gown but just couldn't bring herself to be firm with him. "Neal, maybe if you just try a little … you might be hungrier than you think." Her nervous fingers reached to smooth an unruly curl back behind his ear, the palm of her hand settling back against his shoulder.

Neal looked back and forth between the two women, shaking his head in surrender to their silent but persuasive pleas. "M-maybe a lil potato … does it have carrots and ba-con?"

El opened the wide-mouthed thermos releasing its enticing aroma. "Neal, this is my special recipe. Of course it has carrots and bacon." She lifted a small spoonful of the creamy soup to his mouth. "Take it easy. It is still pretty hot."

Neal indulged her with a satisfied smile as the rich liquid warmed his belly. "Tastes good." He said as he nodded for another bite.

"A little more?" El watched as he raised an unsteady hand, realizing that he couldn't easily feed himself. "Just relax and enjoy. You have a private caterer for as long as you'd like."

Neal finished eating another bite as Crystal's cell phone loudly beeped, the abrupt sound sending his body flinching backward against the pillows. Elizabeth startled by Neal's reaction, dropped the spoon and hurried to help retrieve the phone from under the edge of the afghan. In an instant, Neal shot forward snatching the phone from her grasp and anxiously retrieved the awaiting message.

"I-It's Moz." The phone wavered in his hands. "There's been an un-expected change. Glassen-ger is waiting at the lab." Clamping his jaw tight in frustration, he swiftly struck the back of his hand against the bed railing. "That arrogant b-bastard couldn't stand on the sidelines and r-re-ly on someone else to com-plete the job. He has to be the one calling all the sh-shots."

"Neal dear, please try to calm down. You're going to hurt yourself again." June gently encouraged him to lean back as she pressed the button to dispense a dose of morphine.

In utter exhaustion, Neal dropped his head back onto the pillow and flopped the hand still grasping the phone across his chest. He knew the pain would rapidly return in intensity as the adrenaline rush cleared his system.

Elizabeth carefully coaxed the phone loose from his grasp, pausing to gently stroke the new lump that was emerging on the back of his already sore hand. The combination of her soothing touch and pain medication rapidly worked to calm him. "Neal, why is that bad? Won't it be easier for Peter to catch them if they're all together?"

The frightened look in Neal's eyes met with Elizabeth's confident gaze. "T-this plan hin-ges on Mozzie's abil-ity to bl-end in. While they have on-ly met b-briefly once be-fore, Glass-enger still might recog-nize him." Neal pulled his hand away from Elizabeth's soft caress, gripping his temples. _"Mozz … I'm afraid that just swapping your glasses won't be enough to make you a chameleon tonight."_


End file.
